


Three Lefts Make It Right

by NiteFang



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiteFang/pseuds/NiteFang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times she was left behind, but it turned her in the right direction. Three times he'll prove he can do it right, and there will be no lefts or leaving anyone behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. oh, crap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this with the intention of publishing it during the summer, before the season started. So this was all conjecture. If you see any startling similarities, then chalk it up to my brilliance. If you don’t see anything, don’t expect me to follow canon.  
> So at this point, we can call this completely and utterly AU.  
> You’re also probably going, “What’s with the title?” Oh, you’ll see, bro. You’ll see.

**Part I  
 _Left Once_**

**i. oh, crap**

* * *

 

Just because once upon a time, Emma Swan had been a thief and a bail bondsman—and now a sheriff—did _not_ mean she enjoyed these kinds of situations. Surprisingly enough, she was a big fan of that foreign, seemingly-distant and unattainable concept of _peace and quiet_. She wasn’t some adrenaline junkie who’d start bungee-jumping off bridges if she ever got bored. A woman needed a job. If doing what she did best got food in the fridge, then so be it.

But ever since this whole… _thing_ became a life-or-death matter, the prospect of finding a cabin in the woods and holing herself up was becoming so much more appealing. Of course, with her luck, she’d somehow wind up in _another_ enchanted forest.

Take for instance: now.

It would’ve been nice to just stroll through the trees, admiring the light of the fireflies and nighttime crystals that cast a bluish hue on the forest floor. The thick canopy of branches and leaves filtered in the softest glimmers of moonlight and starlight. Soft, rustling footsteps only added to the soft rhythm of the woods, layered by any whispered conversations.

She wasn’t going to think about with _whom_ she’d be sharing said conversations—the mother who’d been shooting her _those looks_ or the pirate who was causing them.

Nevertheless, the peaceful buzz of the forest was dangerously absent. In its place were the pounding footsteps and labored breaths of five people who were about to be slaughtered by two-inch magical monsters.

In spite of the fact that he was the only one who actually knew where to go, Hook brought up the rear as the threat behind them necessitated his expertise. He shouted directions at Mary Margaret and Regina, who were in the lead. Henry ran behind them, gradually losing ground as exhaustion seeped in with every step. Emma ran behind or beside him, urging him to keep going.

They were running full-tilt even though the furious chiming and chittering had faded behind them. There was no way they were taking the risk of slowing down, not until they were at Hook’s hiding place.

“Left!” Hook barked.

The group immediately swerved to Hook’s directions. Mary Margaret and Regina simultaneously vaulted over a waist-high slab of rock, glancing back worriedly at Henry. Going off the same thought, Hook leapt up to the top of the boulder, and Emma heaved Henry up to Hook’s grasp. She jumped over and turned back to steady Henry as he and Hook jumped down, and their sprint continued.

Thank God David and Gold had split off from the group and headed back to the _Jolly Roger_. While they could use David’s fighting skills, Gold’s limp and the fact that they were of the male variety who _didn’t_ have Hook’s little secret advantage would’ve severely hindered their progress. Pixie Hollow didn’t allow men, exempting little boys and insufferable pirate captains.

“How much further is it?” Emma called over her shoulder.

“It’s just a ways ahead, love,” Hook answered. He saw her worried glance at Henry and sped up to run alongside the ten-year-old. “How are you doing, Master Mills?”

Henry didn’t have enough air to run and talk.

“Need me to throw you over my shoulder?”

Henry managed a glare this time, but as soon as he looked up at Hook’s grin, the expression brightened and he did his best to smile back.

“Just a bit further, mate,” Hook said, reaching out to briefly squeeze the boy’s shoulder. “Then we’ll see how well-suited you are to dip into my rum cache, eh?”

“My foot will be well-suited to your face, Hook, if you even try it!” Emma barked.

Hook grinned even wider. “Come now, darling. I think something else of yours would be better suited to my face.”

“Like my fist? Couldn’t get enough the first time?”

“I’m insatiable, love.”

“HEY!” Mary Margaret shrieked at Hook, eyes wide with either disbelief, fury, or shock—maybe all three. “Where next?!”

“Just past that low bough, princess,” Hook answered genially, innocently smiling as Mary Margaret shot him one last glare over her shoulder as she and Regina ducked under the thick, low-hanging branch of a massive oak.

Henry had just cleared the same branch when chimes exploded from the nearby underbrush. Seven different-colored balls of light shot out from between the thick leaves, swarming around the group.

Before Emma could even blink, Hook had his sword unsheathed, swatting at the blue and green pixies. Mary Margaret had nocked an arrow and speared the pink pixie straight through the middle. It flickered and dropped to the ground, still chiming weakly, as Mary Margaret focused her aim on the orange pixie and dropped that one too. Regina, who still didn’t seem to have a good handle on how to use a sword, reacted instinctively, using the flat of the blade to smack the red light into the tree trunk like a baseball. It squeaked and dropped into the tall grass below, its light flickering before going out.

Emma wasn’t about to employ the same methods and risk taking off someone’s head in the process, so when the yellow pixie darted straight for her neck, she dodged back and snatched the damn thing, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. Hook had just driven his sword into the dirt, skewering the two pixies, when he suddenly leaped forward and tackled Henry with a hoarse cry of, “No!”

But he was too late. He’d slammed into Henry just as the violet pixie blew a small puff of air that sent several red petals onto Henry’s head. Hook immediately launched himself off the boy as Mary Margaret shot the last pixie. Glimmering red film shrouded the ten-year-old, his eyes fluttering shut as he fell asleep right on the grass where he’d fallen.

“HENRY!”

“Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger,” Hook hissed, picking himself off the ground and snatching Emma before she could grab the boy. “Don’t! Don’t touch him.”

“What is that?!” Mary Margaret demanded as Emma struggled in Hook’s grip.

He adjusted his arms to hold her in an embrace even as she tried to elbow him in the stomach. “It’s the bloody poppy petals! Buggering pixie put him in a deep sleep! You touch him, you suffer the same fate!”

“How do we get him out?” Regina asked, hands clenching as she struggled not to touch Henry.

“I just told you—you touch him,” Hook said as Emma’s struggling tapered off. “You trade places. He wakes up, you fall asleep.”

“I’ll do it,” Emma snapped. “I’ll take his pla—”

“Swan, I know you’re impervious to a lot of magicks, but the pixies are fairly clean-cut and simple about death. Their brutality needs no magic. They’ll peel your skin off and choke you with it,” Hook said levelly as he released her but kept on hand on her arm. “You wouldn’t be able to escape.”

She whacked his hand off, glaring at him furiously. “I’m not just gonna leave him! He’s my son!”

“And this is your _life_ ,” Hook shot back. There was no mischief in his eyes now. “There are a lot of things I’ll risk on a mission, Emma, but _you_ are not one of them. _I_ will take his place.”

Even Regina looked a little bit shocked. “What?”

Emma shook her head and blinked. “You just said the pixies will kill—”

Hook held up his hand. “ _You_ _three_ stand no chance against them. If you’re captured, you’re dead. I, on the other hand, may still have enough leverage to survive.” He looked up toward the mountains and pointed to the second-highest peak. “Hide in the safe house until the black smoke from the Indian camp there turns white, then make for the ship.”

“And where are we supposed to go from there?” Mary Margaret asked. “We have no way of getting back to Storybrooke, with or without you.”

“The mermaids’ most treasured possession lies at the bottom of their lagoon—a trident that will stir open portals in the ocean. If you can get to it, you can get home,” he replied. “Knowing all your luck combined, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He jerked his chin at Mary Margaret. “Princess, I suggest scouting ahead for more of those pixies. Bring the inept sword-swinger; she might be useful again. The entrance to the safe house is hidden under the left of the two hooked roots of an old oak that’ll be on your left.”

Regina narrowed her eyes at him, but her face softened when she looked at Henry one last time before he walked away. Mary Margaret, though, frowned at him curiously—no longer suspicious. She glanced at Emma and then nodded at Hook. “Thank you.”

He smiled—more of a grimace than anything—and nodded back.

Mary Margaret nocked another arrow before walking away, leaving Emma alone with Hook and her unconscious son. He crouched down beside Henry, sighing as he examined the shimmering red film as if anticipating the unpleasantness of the effects.

“Why are you doing this?” Emma asked softly.

He shook his head with a faint smile. “Why do you always have to question me?”

“Because you’re a pirate.”

“Because you’ve your own preconceived notions of who Captain Hook is, love,” he corrected her with a bitter chuckle.

Emma frowned, lips set in a straight line. “You didn’t give me the bean the first time.”

“And that was the first time I ever did anything of the sort to you, wasn’t it?” he asked, tilting his head up to her. “You’re the one who left me with the giant, locked me in a bloody broom closet, and took my offer of help to twist it into a massive gamble that put all our lives in jeopardy, staked on the word and faith of your lovely, overly-optimistic mother.”

Her mouth opened and closed uselessly, but held up his hand.

“Been around a few centuries, love, and I’ve learned a thing or two about things. Magic that alters a location is _grounded_ in that particular area; it cannot be moved,” he said. “Opening a portal under it would either have not worked or created a wormhole that would’ve torn a rift between the two realms. There was a small chance that it would’ve worked, but the odds weren’t something I could live with—figuratively and literally.”

“We found a different way, though,” she reminded him quietly.

“Which should show you that there’s always another option if you look hard enough, darling. Learned _that_ through the observation of many a man, woman, child, and my own mistakes. Hindsight’s clear as a cloudless horizon. Use that to your advantage, eh?”

Emma swallowed, noticing that he’d been looking up at her nearly the entire time. He wasn’t lying.

That was the thing, though, wasn’t it? That was how he fooled her the first time around with the bean. He’d never actually said the bean was in the bag. He’d only handed it over. There wasn’t any truth to be _told_ , only a lie by omission. Literally. He _omitted the bean_.

And then he sighed. “Look at me, Emma.”

She blinked, frowning down at him.

“I’ll not betray your location to the pixies, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said plainly and adamantly so she couldn’t doubt his intentions, blue eyes burning her with the same open expression that made something in her twinge and shift. “I’ll not escape and steal the ship before the white smoke rises. I’ll not attack your father, the Crocodile, nor anyone else on our expedition. I will not betray you.”

She licked her lips and at Henry. “Not gonna weasel your way through your own words and blame semantics?”

“I promise,” he said. And when her expression didn’t shift (even though her thoughts already had), his serious eyes turned pleading. _“Trust me.”_

It was Emma’s turn to sigh. She predicted she was gonna be doing a hell of a lot of that. “Fine. How’re you getting out of this?”

Hook’s serious expression warmed, and he smiled and winked up at her. “With large amounts of faith, trust, and a just a bit of pixie dust, eh?”

Emma frowned and shook her head. “Just…don’t die, okay?”

“Is that your way of showing you care, love?”

“My way of showing I don’t wanna deal with those damn mermaids again.”

“Liar,” Hook chuckled. “Now go. The rest of the bloody demon horde will arrive soon.” He reached down, brushed the petals from Henry’s head in one swipe, and dropped onto the grass, fast asleep and shimmering red. 


	2. oh, no

**ii. oh, no**

* * *

 

Twenty minutes.

Only _twenty minutes._

Emma had ducked into Hook’s little hideout, Henry slung over one shoulder, twenty minutes earlier. She laid the poor kid on one of the small cots on the far right side of the surprisingly-spacious underground hideout as Mary Margaret and Regina lit the lanterns that hung on the low ceiling and dusted off the table and chairs in another sectioned-off area that seemed to be the kitchen/storeroom. The dilapidated state of the “stove” or “furnace” (or whatever that iron piece of crap was) was a clear sign that it’d serve as a sophisticated campfire more than anything. They found about six crates of rum, two barrels of gunpowder, a box of tissues, and sacks of dust.

Yeah, _dust_.

Weird-ass pirates.

But _twenty minutes_.

Twenty minutes spent with a small, light feeling of relief, which took up about 16% of her thoughts, in that they were rid of the pirate. No more incessant comments that warranted one of Mary Margaret’s _looks_. No more paranoia of being suddenly stabbed in the back by the pirate (oh, hell yeah, she was still worrying about the witch and warlock and probably would be for the rest of her life). No more somewhat-amusing-but-generally-annoying back-and-forth between the two of them. No more Killian _effing_ Jones.

The other 84% was guilty as dicks. Guilty enough, in fact, to say stupid stuff like that—“guilty as dicks.” What did that even _mean_? What kind of comparison was that? She was _that guilty_. Guilty for not trusting him, for leaving him behind…again.

Twenty minutes after entering Hook’s hideout, Henry woke up, blearily looked around, zeroed in on Emma, and said the two words she’d been dreading:

“Where’s Killian?”

_Damn it._

Not long after that question came the five words she dreaded even above those two:

“We have to go back!”

_Fu—_

“Henry, honey, I don’t think—”

“Out of the question!”

“Kid, we just _can’t_.”

Even though he was so exhausted he could barely sit up. Even though he’d hardly exchanged _ten sentences_ with the man. Even though he was currently one of Neverland’s Most Wanted. _Her son wanted to go back._

Emma’s theory that he took after Mary Margaret most of all was pretty much carved into stone at this point.

“He’s a _pirate_ ,” Regina reminded him, crossing her legs where she sat at the foot of Henry’s cot. “He _thrives_ on situations like these. It’s essentially what he lives for.”

“Well, it must suck that he’ll die this time then!” Henry snapped impatiently.

Oh. There’re the Emma genes.

“You guys don’t get it!” he croaked.

Mary Margaret handed him her canteen of water. “Henry, we _do_ , but we just can’t afford to go back.”

“He’s gonna _die_!”

Emma stopped her pacing to crouch down beside him. “He’ll find a way out, kid. I know he will. He knows how to deal with those pixies.”

“No! When they tied me up at Hangman’s Tree, one of the Lost Ones said you were coming, but Pan didn’t get _really mad_ until they said you were coming _with Captain Hook_. His eyes started glowing red, and he got bigger, like he was sucking in all of the other shadows,” Henry explained. “The pixies might not be able to kill him, but they’ll turn him over to Pan. Whatever history Hook has here is gonna get him killed. We have to help him!”

Emma froze. “All the more reason for us to _stay away_! It was already dangerous enough before, and now you’re telling us Pan could start a bloodbath—mainly with _Hook’s_ blood—and that you’re also expecting us to _go back_?”

“We can’t risk losing you again,” Regina said. “We _just_ got you back. That was our mission; that’s what Hook agreed to do. We shouldn’t…belittle his sacrifice.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow at the older woman before sliding her gaze back onto Henry. Trust Regina to make something noble sound like a lame excuse. “ _Okay_ , stirring as that was… The thing is, kid, even if we could risk a rescue mission, we don’t have the resources to do anything but rush back into Pixie Hollow and start swatting at these things like the mosquitoes they are. We don’t know their weaknesses or secret entrances, no leverage, no _anything_.”

“Which is _how different_ from all our other situations?” Henry pointed out blandly. Oh, _great_. _Now_ he decided to _really_ bring out the Emma genes.

Emma threw her head back and groaned. She stood up and resumed her pacing. “Regina’s right. He’s a resourceful guy. He can figure his way out somehow.”

“What if he _doesn’t_ make it?” Henry was a persistent little kid, and it was a noble quality. It was getting real annoying _real_ quick, though.

“We have a contingency plan,” Emma said. “We can still make it back to Storybrooke. Granted, it’s gonna take some time and maybe a few more scrapes, but we’ll get there.”

Henry blinked. “What?”

“Hook told us,” Mary Margaret said, but she didn’t look convinced of his plan. “If he doesn’t make it back, we have to find the mermaids’ trident. It’ll portal us back home.”

“The _mermaids’_ … _trident_ ,” Emma muttered bracingly.

“We need to save him,” Henry said flatly.

Noticing the sudden, _bleak_ shift in the atmosphere, Regina straightened up and glanced back and forth between Emma and Mary Margaret. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, n—”

“Regina, we’re slim on options,” Mary Margaret said patiently. “As familiar as you and Gold are with Pan, you don’t have the ground experience in Neverland that Hook has.”

Emma smoothed her hair back from her face with a deep breath. “The _most treasured possession_ of the _mermaids_ , which sits at the _bottom of their lagoon_ …” She groaned. “We’re better off trying to convince the mermaids to do tricks on command. Prep ‘em for auditions at Seaworld.”

Mary Margaret pinned Regina with a commiserating look. “There’s no way we’re making it out of here without him.”

“Oh, for God’s sake…” Regina breathed, shaking her head and.

“Henry, I’m sure he’s got a plan in place already. If we head over there, we might…interrupt and get him killed in the process.” There. That sounded kinda legit.

“And what if we save him in the nick of time? Mom, they’re _pixies_!” Henry insisted. “They’ve known him longer than we have—they could’ve figured out his plan or something already!”

Mary Margaret sighed down at her fingers as she twirled her wedding ring. “I…am _sure_ that the trident is down there. Hook’s done nothing but prove his trustworthiness throughout this whole—”

“Dear _God_ ,” Regina interjected.

“—endeavor, and if he says it’ll get us out of here, then…you know what? I believe him.”

“And that’s what’ll get you killed one of these days,” Regina added under her breath.

Emma glared at her. “Yeah, if _you_ ever decide to take a break from trying to do it yourself!”

“But the odds of us getting it,” Mary Margaret interrupted loudly, “without any native knowledge of the land is incredibly _low_. We _need_ him, Emma. And I am _not_ going to sit and wait for him to stumble in here with a few new scrapes and maybe a singed eyebrow or two.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Regina murmured.

Henry immediately brightened. “We’re getting him back?”

Emma laughed bitterly. “No. _Mary Margaret and I_ are getting him back. _You and Regina_ are staying _here_.” She threw the mayor a pointed glare. She wouldn’t be pulling any traitorous stunts if Henry had anything to do with it. Emma turned to Mary Margaret. “They’re probably back at the Hollow by now, so we can’t ambush them on the move.”

“This is a suicide mission,” Regina muttered, raking her fingers through her hair.

“There should be a map somewhere here, right?” Emma muttered to herself, walking around the small underground room. Mary Margaret pushed herself up from the chair beside Henry’s cot to help. “Pirates have maps in hideouts. It’d be stupid if they didn’t.” But then again, this was _Hook_. He’d probably say he was too good for maps and that it was _all up in his head_ or some other dumbass shi—

“What’s the plan?” Henry asked, his attempt to get up from the bed foiled by Regina, who pushed him back down with a stern look.

“The plan,” Emma said, peering into a few crates and chests, “is that we have to…” She pushed away a crate of rum bottles and began tapping her foot on the wooden planks of the floor, checking for any sort of hidden compartment. “…figure out…” She kicked a rusted old iron stove and sighed.

“Where the _maps_ are?” Regina finished blandly. “This is pathetic.”

“We’ve got fuses, gunpowder, empty glass bottles, rum, and what looks to be women’s pantaloons, but no maps,” Mary Margaret concluded with a grimace.

Emma kicked the crate of bottles and growled in frustration. She glared down at the iron stove in front of her. “How are we even supposed to _use a map_ when we don’t even know our bearings? Even if we _do_ manage to get there, what are we supposed to do then?”

“You can’t _sneak_ _in_ because they’re pixies. You can’t _draw them out_ because they’re pixies. You can’t do much of _anything—because—they—are—pixies_. They’re conniving little critters whose natural integration with nature means they’re acutely aware of their territory. And you know what pixies have?” Regina threw her arms out grandly. “ _Magic._ And what’s worse? It’s a whole new brand of magic that neither Gold nor I will be able to counter at all.”

Emma paused and sucked on her teeth, mulling over Regina’s words. And then she turned to Mary Margaret, who had one eyebrow cocked as she stared off into space.

“They’re… _pixies_ ,” Emma said softly. She kicked the stove, and it shuddered, shedding a layer of iron dust that coated the floor under it. Emma smiled. “What do you think, Mom?”

Mary Margaret’s face completely brightened, and Henry couldn’t help grinning just as widely. “I think we’ve got ourselves a plan.”

* * *

“Welcome back, Killian.”

Hook blinked and shook his head—and then immediately regretted it as he swayed loosely. His head throbbed. The blood rushing to his head made everything swim, and he swallowed and took deep, even breaths. “Bugger.”

“Indeed.”

Ignoring the annoying little voice chiming in his ear, Hook focused on the ropes. He huffed and shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but considering the fact that he was hanging by his ankles from a high bough a hundred feet from the ground, comfort was as achievable as stealing a kiss from bloody Prince Charming. Not that he wanted one or was even contemplating the idea of trying. Prince Charming’s _daughter_ , on the other hand…

He sighed. Where was the rum when he needed it?

Nevertheless, Killian jones was naught but a humble sailor who acknowledged the value of persistence and the practice of unraveling knots. He lived on a ship, for God’s sake. He was constantly surrounded by ropes. Ropes were his _weeds._

“You can’t ignore me forever, dear.”

Without pausing the subtle work on his bound wrists, he glanced down at the…nest? …hive? … _ant hill_? Any of those were appropriate when looking at the way the elaborate network of hollowed tree-lofts and leaf-hovels. Hundreds of dancing lights swirled around, some on the ground, some in the air.

One extremely annoying one right by his left ear.

“Oh, come now. Don’t tell me fearsome Captain Killian ‘Hook’ Jones refuses to acknowledge his past.”

“No, _buggerling_. I refuse to acknowledge irritable little demons with penchants for mischief.” Hook smiled and finally looked at the red-lit pixie with the long light brown plait hanging over her shoulder. Flanked by a blue and green pixie on either side, the red pixie set her fists on her hips and scowled at him.

“Last time I checked, you and I had bonded over a love of mischief.”

Hook’s smile chilled. “The kind of mischief that didn’t involve blood.”

The pixie smiled sweetly. “Not everyone can be like your precious little friend.”

“She was your friend too,” he said, his smile fading as he finally undid the last knot, keeping the rope in place to maintain the ruse.

“It’s been _centuries_ , Killian,” she said, rolling her orange eyes.

“I am a master at holding grudges, darling.” He looked back down at the bustling hollow below, still at a slight loss for what to do. Dangling a hundred feet from the ground never did leave a man with many options.

She darted forward, hovering in front of his nose. “So are we, _Hook_.”

“Of course you are,” he grumbled, scowling and jerking so he could slowly spin away from her. “Made of gunpowder and venom, the lot of you.”

She flittered around so they were eye to eye once more. “Sounds like I’m made of _war_ , eh? That should tell you a thing or two about your current predicament.” Backing off slightly, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve been gone for a long time, you see? Granted, not much has changed, but… _little things_.”

“Glad you thought so _little_ of your old peaceful natures.”

Apparently it was her turn to ignore him. He seized the opportunity to train his eyes back to the ground. “Little things like geography and culture, of course. The location of the Indian crops, for example. They’ve been rotating their fallow lands, stretching further toward the waters now.”

He was a tall bloke to begin with. There would be no _sneaking about_ in Pixie Hollow, even if he got himself down from the bloody tree.

“Some erosion has shifted the lagoon a bit, giving the mermaids more fin room. Not that they even need it. They’re often flipping about near the outcropping of rocks closest to Hangman’s Tree.”

They’d certainly learned their lesson since last time. Binding him and leaving him on the ground had led to an embarrassingly easy escape.

“And then there’s the matter of your underground bunker.”

Hook froze.

She grinned, dimpling in her evil joy. “We also learned a little something about smoke signals and how you managed to find favor with the chief. Every morning the sails of the _Jolly Roger_ can be seen in Cannibal’s Cove, the camp will break fast with white smoke.”

He swallowed and licked his lips, finally tearing his eyes away from the hollow.

“Of course, Anora would never let us attack the Indian camp or bribe them into breaking treaties and therefore start some sort of war. Their respect for nature tugs on the queen’s heartstrings a bit too much for her to let us open hostilities. So we compromised.”

The small stiletto knife was still tucked into his boot. He could strangle the pixie, stuff her in his pocket, and cut the rope around his ankles with the knife. There were surely enough branches to break his fall between where he currently hung and where he might land. The pixie guards nearby would certainly have a hard time catching him if he was falling.

“The Indians call them some fanciful nonsense,” she said. “ _We_ call them ivory asters.”

Hook blinked.

_Bugger._

“Cream petals, black stamens, smells like pastries—sound familiar?”

_Bugger, bugger, bug—_

“Odorless when crushed? Deadly when dispersed and inhaled? You’re aware of it, I’m sure,” she continued. “The passengers aboard your ship, on the other hand—a prince and a sorcerer? They’re about to become intimately familiar with it.”

Hook paused, studying the pixie’s face. And then he chuckled. “A prince I have no particular attachment to and a sorcerer which I have spent the last few centuries wanting to kill— _brilliant_. It seems the years have done a number on your memory. You have forgotten _much_ about me.”

Her smug grin softened. Pleased, she reclined in the air and floated leisurely, believing her interrogation to be finished. “Then tell us the location of the bunker where the women and child are hiding, and we’ll rid you of the pests on your ship.”

Hook returned her smile and looked back down once more. Where was that bloody thing? Last he remembered, it was withering down to worrying proportions, but if he knew the pixies, they’d have changed their strategies to maintain its integrity. Where _was it_?!

“They’re in an oak tree with two high roots arching over the ground. The entrance is under the right root.”

The red pixie lazily signaled to her comrades moments after Hook’s confession, and the two zipped down to report to whomever it was that would raid the bunker. She continued to watch Hook as he dropped the ruse and shook the ropes from his wrists. Groaning, he reached up, having to heave himself up a few times before finally securing his hook on the branch before pulling the knife from his booth and cutting himself free.

“Now that we’ve come to an agreement, are you going to help me down to the ground or am I going to climb down myself?”

She straightened up, flipping her braid over her other shoulder. “We’re not on friendly enough terms for me to ease any of your discomfort. If you want to get down, you’ll do it on your own.” She floated downward, calling after her shoulder, “After all…you’ll probably just stab me in the back like you did your friends.”


	3. oh, okay

**iii. oh, okay**

* * *

 

After that wondrous exchange with his dear, old friend, Hook had scowled, turned away, and started making his way back down the tree. The damned pixie had smirked and flittered off to assemble whatever godforsaken legion she was planning to march to capture Emma, Henry, and the others, leaving Hook to pick his way along the boughs and branches to find some sort of way down.

Once, he had nearly lost his footing. Thrice, he’d broken or cracked the branch he was on. Six times, he’d nearly gotten his eye poked out. He should get one more splinter and finish the pattern with a nine.

Hanging upside down from one’s ankles for an extended period of time tends to cause numbness, dizziness, and a general discord in the human anatomy. So he was, at the very least, hoping to make it to the ground before he—God forbid—lost _another_ limb.

Keeping close to the trunk, he swung around, peering through the canopy of leaves to find his target. He dropped down to the bough just below, wobbling uncertainly and taking deep breaths to keep his balance better. Then he finally spotted it—the Star of Neverland. It really _had_ deteriorated. No wonder it’d taken him so long to find it. Yet there it was, heavily guarded on the west side of the camp. Its light was waning but still bright enough to shine through its woven, wooden house.

All he needed was to do was distract or disarm the pixies, break off a big chunk, and get back to Emma before daybreak.

Easy enough.

He could sneak around the back and incapacitate them without them knowing, break a hole in the side and get to the Star without them ever knowing, or he could simply walk right up and charm his way back into their good graces and into the house.

Hook sighed and skipped down a couple more branches, the last one teetering dangerously and garnering the attention of a few patrollers down below.

“‘Ello there,” he called, waving and then bowing with a flourish, making sure his hook was securely wedged in the trunk.

A few of them hissed, baring their fangs and warping their faces into the true demons they’d become.

Hook stood there for a few more seconds, debating his strategy, when he saw something a little…disturbing. It must have been his high vantage point (considering he still had a long ways to go before reaching the ground) since none of the pixies had noticed it yet. But Hook noticed.

Hook noticed very much.

And decided it would behoove him to speed up the process of getting back on solid ground—preferably without injuring himself.

Sadly, his hopes were dashed, like small fluttering birds who’d just flown from the nest for the first time only to plummet from the tree, off a cliff, and into the sharp crags below. He jumped down from his perch, landing on another, only for it to splinter and break. The dashing, charming, swashbuckling rogue crashed through a cloud of branches and spider webs and nearly lost his eye on a branch as he tore his way down. If he needed an eye patch by the end of this escapade, he’d start investing in a peg leg and a parrot. Complete the bloody set.

When he hit the ground, he nearly lost his head as well. It seems his fall had alerted more of the pixies, causing them to look up and see the flickers of orange light bearing down on them quickly. Pixies swarmed all around, uncaring of whether or not there was a fairly tall human man in their way. The ones who did notice his return to the ground bared their tiny little piranha teeth and hissed.

“Hello again, darlings,” Hook said through his groan as he gingerly picked himself up off the ground. “Forgive me for my appalling etiquette, but I really must be getting along.” Testing his limbs for anything detached or otherwise maimed, he finally pulled himself upright and swatted away a few pixies that dared to attack and hobbled his way toward the house.

The level of hissing increased in proportion with the closing distance of the fire and the strange cloud of black dust. There would be no sneaking about anymore.

So much for a painless execution of his plan. This was probably Prince Charmless and the Lizard’s doing. No flair or subtlety, those two—just storm in, cannons blazing.

He surged forward, kicking through a group of pixies and batting more away. Their magic clung to his boots and coat, tingling straight through into his skin. As long as that ruddy red pixie wasn’t back, he’d be happy. He passed by a tree with low branches, ripped one off, and started sweeping a path through the swarm of multicolored lights toward the Star.

This. This right here was the reason why he’d been so _happy_ Emma and the Princess Mother deemed Charming and the Dark One to be especially ill-suited to accompanying them to Pixie Hollow.

Tingles of magic coated his hands, making his skin buzz uncomfortably, but still he pushed through, grimacing. When he reached the Star, the patrols had already stormed inside to evacuate it. At least he didn’t have to crawl through the hutch or tear a hole through the top.

The guards had already taken off, carrying the head-shaped rock between the six of them. Hook leapt up, swung the branch, and knocked them all down. Unfortunately, these pixies were less intent on escaping and now more fixated on ripping his skin off. The purple one had managed to claw its way out of the tangle of the branch and sink its talons into his hand, magic burning under his skin as she pulled to try and tear his skin off.

“Bugger off!” Hook growled, shaking it off and stomping on it.

The blue one took particular offense to that and aimed straight for Hook’s eye, fangs and claws bared. It managed to scratch teen deep gouges into his cheek before he caught it in his hand and crushed it, more magic sinking into his blood.

Fucking hell.

His bones were growing heavier and heavier as he closed the distance between himself and the Star. He wasn’t entirely sure if the feverish heat was from the poisonous magic he was practically drowning in or from the fire that was bearing down upon the hollow. Either way, it was going to be up to his gormless deliverers to get the Star back to Emma and the others. Hopefully he’d still have enough life left to explain what they should do with the rock. If he didn’t, they’d probably chuck it to the side or bang their bloody heads against it.

Burning down the damn forest. _Honestly_.

He threw off the rest of the pixies, lifting his scarf to cover his nose and mouth now that he could feel the black dust flying around him. He ran toward the Star, lifted it up, tucked it against his arm, and damning its poisonous effects since he was well on his way to death anyway.

The screaming of the panicking pixies nearly drowned out the call of his name, but it was unmistakable. Hook slowed his run and turned to see his rescuer striding through the madness of fire and dust, brandishing the sword and looking as wonderfully menacing as she always did.

 _“What the bloody buggering fuck, woman?!”_ he barked.

“You’re welcome, asshole!” Emma snapped back through the cloth covering half of her face.

She was certainly her father’s daughter.

“This was your doing?!” he demanded, gesturing at the maelstrom of fire and brimstone that was closing in.

“Fire and iron,” the Princess Mother said, running up behind Emma, another arrow nocked. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No.” Hook glanced back and forth between the two women and then up at the hellish backdrop of fire and black dust. “I’m just a bit—AH! FUCK!”

Snow White had whirled around just in time to see a pixie sink its tiny fangs into Hook’s neck and tear out an entire mouthful.

He dropped the Star, landing on his knees, as his heartbeat began to echo in his ears. His vision swam, black misting around the edges. However, he didn’t miss the way Emma speared the green pixie and skewered it into the ground.

“What did you do to him?!” she roared.

“Just desserts,” the pixie spat through a mouthful of blood. “He’ll not make it…another five minutes. You, on the other…hand, should be more…worried about your son.”

Emma glanced over her shoulder at Hook and turned back to the pixie. “Why?”

“He…sold you out,” he choked, coughing as he continued to breathe in the iron dust swirling around them. “Our finest…are probably already at his hideout, breathing in…our ivory asters…and _dying_.”

Hook’s deteriorating vision was suddenly impeded by the tip of Snow White’s arrow. “You betrayed us?!” she screeched.

“Not really,” he breathed.

“What the hell do you mean ‘not really?’” Emma cried, pulling her sword out of the empty-eyed pixie and rounding it on Hook’s neck.

“I have many hideouts, love,” he explained weakly. “I simply sent them to another one.” He pulled his eyes away from the arrow at his nose and looked up at Emma. “Told you I wouldn’t betray you, for God’s sake. I’m a man of my word…even ‘til death. I won’t leave you out to dry.”

Sparing a look at the fire behind her, she turned back and motioned to the charred black rock beside Hook. “What is that?”

“Can I explain when I’m not dying, darling?”

“NOW!”

“Our ticket out of Neverland,” he sighed. “Or rather, _your_ ticket.”

She bent in front of him, hazel eyes searching through his own. When she seemingly found what she was looking for, her gaze softened, turning into a look described as more focused than menacing, she grabbed his arm and heaved him up. “Come on. It’s still _our_ ticket. Regina can heal you or something.”

“Not…gonna make it that far, sweetheart,” he muttered, sinking back down to the ground.

“What happened to surviving being your special talent?” she asked through her teeth as practically dragging him across the ground by his arm.

“I blame it on the Dark One’s bad influence,” he quipped, smirking deliriously.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” She tore off the edge of her shirt, wadded it up, and gently held it against his neck. Her fingers brushed his skin, and he stiffened. “You also promised to help me save my son, and that means getting him out of this hellhole. You a man of your word or not?”

The touch of her skin against his sent warm shockwaves that reverberated through his body and made him shiver, and when she heaved him back up, he could put a little more energy into his legs. His bones were lighter, his muscles a little looser.

_Savior indeed._

“No pity for the injured, have you?” Hook teased weakly as he peeled off his coat, wincing in aching pain the whole time.

“What are you doing now?” Emma asked, glancing at her mother, who was shooting off arrows or chucking handfuls of iron dust and shavings at any pixie who was less preoccupied with saving themselves and more focused on attacking them.

Hook threw his coat over the Star, wrapping it securely and tucking it into the crook of his arm again. “Shouldn’t let it come into contact with your skin. Poisonous effects and all.”

 _He_ , on the other hand, needed more contact with her skin as she seemed to be slowly healing him. Placing his hand on the back of her neck and feeling a surge of warmth shoot through his arm, Hook tugged her forward and kissed her cheek, making sure to brush her skin with his nose as he pulled away.

“Thanks for the rescue, love,” he said, feeling the comforting warmth wash out his fever. He grabbed her hand and started running again, Warrior Princess Mother following close behind. “Time to go.”

* * *

 

“Explain,” Snow White commanded. “Now. In full detail.”

Emma and the Queen Mayor were steadily hammering the rock into dust at the nearby table as Hook sat on the cot against the wall with Henry, who was helping him clean and bandage the particularly nasty cuts and scrapes the pixies had inflicted.

“Once upon a time, a shooting star crashed onto a tiny island named Neverland,” Hook said flatly.

Emma and Regina suddenly flew back from the table, knocking their chairs back.

“This is radioactive?!” Regina screeched.

He wasn’t entirely sure what “radioactive” meant, but it seemed to be something fatal. “It’ll hurt you only if you touch it with your bare skin for too long. Hence the need for the gloves on your hands. It smashed into the middle of a forest, coincidentally the home of forest fairies. The effects of the star warped their magic, turning them from benevolent fairies into the demon pixies you saw.”

“So they were fairies before? Like Blue and Nova?” Snow asked, crossing her arms.

Regina snorted as she righted her chair and picked up her hammer again. “Cancerous fairies. That explains a lot.”

“Uh, whoever they are, I suppose so, yes,” Hook answered. “Their combined magic turned the island into what it is. For as long as you breathe its air, you will not age.”

“So this is all toxic?” Emma asked.

“If you choose to think of it that way, sure.”

She glared at him and picked up the chair, slamming it back onto its legs. “So why are we crushing it?”

“Its dust helps you fly?” Henry offered.

Hook turned to him with a grin. “How’d you know that?”

Henry smiled back and shrugged. “Wild guess.”

Hook’s grin widened, and he nudged Henry with his elbow. “Yeah. Yeah, sprinkle it over your head, and with a little positive thinking, you can fly. If we spread it over my ship, we can sail back to Storybrooke.”

“Was this your plan all along?” Snow asked, frowning.

Hook turned back to her. “You mean, did I plan to be captured in order to gain access to the Star of Neverland? No, but happy coincidences, yes?”

“What was your original plan of getting us home, then?” Snow asked. “Were you serious about getting the mermaids’ trident?”

“Yes,” Hook answered.

“And were you expecting to deep-sea dive for it?” Regina asked snidely. “None us are adapted to underwater combat, you know.”

“You make a deal with a mermaid,” Hook said incredulously, as if it should’ve been the first thing they thought of.

“What?” Emma sighed wearily, turning in her seat to stare at him.

“Mermaids like deals. You give them something, and they’ll give you something in return.”

“What would we have bartered in exchange for the trident?” Snow asked furiously.

“You have the Dark One in your company,” Hook answered. “I figured he would be able to sort it all out for your benefit.”

“Absolutely foolproof,” Regina scoffed, pushing her chair back and standing up again, this time to cross the room and face Hook. “That was a _brilliant_ plan. But what I want to know is how you’re still _alive_. Pixie magic is venomous. By all accounts, you shouldn’t have made it out of the hollow, let alone _here._ ”

Hook rested his elbows on his knees, and frowned at Regina, disliking her tone _very_ much.

“You know too much about this island, too much about the pixies and Pan and the Indian camp—”

“Spend three hundred years in one place, and you’d get intimately acquainted with its occupants as well,” Hook said blandly.

“No, no, Regina’s got a point,” Snow said. “You know something—something significant that you’re doing your best to keep from us. If the pixies hate you so much, why were you able to walk into Pixie Hollow without dying like you said David and Gold would?”

Hook shrugged. “I told you. Intimate acquaintances.”

Snow shook her head. “Emma—Emma, is he telling the truth?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Of course. I forgot we have our own human lie detector.”

“He’s not lying, but he’s not telling us everything,” Emma said, hazel eyes staring him down even if he wasn’t looking at her.

“Does it matter at this point?” Hook asked. “I’m offering you the way out.”

“Out to of the battalion of warrior pixies out for vengeance for _burning down their home_ ,” Regina snapped. “They’re going to be scouring the forest. Either tell me the truth, or I’m going to personally start waving a white flag and offer _you_ up to get them off our backs.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then why won’t you tell us?” Snow asked calmly.

“Because it _doesn’t matter_ ,” Hook answered bracingly.

“Hook, for God’s sake. Even if it doesn’t matter right now, it could bite us in the ass later,” Emma sighed, hammering the rock a little harder than necessary.

Hook sighed and straightened up. He turned to Henry. “You know the truth, don’t you, Master Mills?”

Henry studied him for a few seconds as Regina and Snow stared between the two males and Emma stopped hammering to finally give them her full attention.

“What are you talking about?” Snow asked.

Henry narrowed his eyes and then took a deep breath. “Can you fix it?” he asked Hook. “Put…it all back together?”

Hook turned back to Emma, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the rock.

“Not without its consequences.”

“How _did_ you heal yourself?” Snow asked.

“I didn’t,” Hook answered. He jerked his chin toward Emma. “Thank _you_ , love.”

“What?!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Did you… _heal_ him?” Snow asked, uncrossing her arms and tentatively stepping closer to the table.

Henry’s eyes were wide as he stared at his mother. _“Whoa.”_

“W-Wh—No! Like I would e-even _know_ how to do that!” Emma spluttered.

“Well, you must’ve done _something_ because he can’t just heal himself!” Regina shot back.

“Enough of this!” Snow slammed her hand on the table, rattling the hammers and the rock. “Either you tell us everything now, or we tie you up, leave you here, and bring this… _Star of Neverland_ with us.”

“Are you really going to interrogate me? After everything we’ve been through?” Hook asked, scooting back on the cot until his back was against the wall.

“Ye—”

“No.” They all turned to Emma, who set the hammer down and rested her elbows on the table. “No. Look, Hook’s had every opportunity to sell us out. He could’ve given away our location and _actually_ sold us out to the pixies. He could’ve taken this star dust stuff, ousted David and Gold from the ship, and gone back to Storybrooke.”

Hook stared her down, willing her to look at him. And when she did, he tried to convey the same message he’d said before.

_I told you I wouldn’t betray you._

“The fact is,” she said, “that maybe a little faith can go much further than paranoia and suspicion. He hasn’t given us any reason to think he’d betray us, so…let’s just trust him.”

“Are you _serious_ , right now?!” Regina demanded.

“Yeah, I am!” Emma barked, eyes flashing. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pursing her lips. “Let’s just…finish pulverizing this stuff so we can get back to David and Gold before the pixies find them and try to use them for leverage.”

She threw one last look at Hook, nodded, and started hammering away at the rock again.

Hook smiled.

_Progress._

 


	4. for crying out loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fraught with head canon, bros.

**Part II  
 _Left Twice_**

**iv. for crying out loud**

* * *

 

“ _Do_ hurry, please, as I am disinclined to tangle with a hundred and fifty pixies at once,” Hook called down to the others, shaking his bag of star dust empty over the mainsail. “And _especially_ on my _ship_.”

“They didn’t seem like much of a problem,” Regina said, spreading dust over the bowsprit.

“That’s because you only dealt with a few recon pixies,” Hook said. “These are _warriors_ on our tails—the ones who don’t have to bother with magic to kill us.”

“So _these_ are the ones who’d rip our faces off and strangle us with it?” Regina asked snidely.

“That attitude of yours is pushing me closer to pushing _you_ off the ship, Queen Mayor,” Hook sighed, turning his back on the infuriating woman. He swung back down onto the deck and came up beside Henry, who was sprinkling his own bag over the quarterdeck. “How are you, Master Mills?”

Henry nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Ready to get off this island?” Hook asked, feeling the subtle vibrations of magic all over the ship already.

“You have no idea.”

Hook smiled and patted him on the back. “As soon as we’re in the air, captain’s quarters are yours. You need the rest.”

“Thanks,” Henry said, taking a deep breath.

“Pirate!”

Hook scowled and turned around. “Crocodile!”

“We have a shadow now,” the Dark One answered casually.

“Already?” Hook sighed.

“Literally,” Emma said dejectedly, dumping the rest of her bag on the rest of the stern and tossing it aside, her eyes fixed on the cloud of multi-colored lights and the white-eyed shadow hurtling through the dusky sky toward them. She turned to Hook. “You need to get us in the air. _Now_.”

 “More like _five minutes ago_ ,” Regina groused, dusting her hands off.

“Oi! _Hush_!” Hook huffed as he jogged to the bow.

“What’s going on?” Prince Charmless asked, emerging from the below deck with Snow White.

“Pan’s shadow’s right behind us,” Hook answered. “Did you get it all over?”

Charming held up his empty bag of star dust. “Yeah. Everything’s humming down there already.”

“They’re gaining!” Emma called as she worked on loosening the sails. “Hook, we need to get airborne _now_!”

“No time!” Charming barked, standing at the railing with his wife, who had Hook’s spyglass already extended at her eye. How she managed to _get_ said spyglass, Hook wasn’t sure. He figured Emma must have inherited her thieving skills from _someone_. “We need to fight!”

“Damn it, Hook! How slow is this thing?!” Regina cried. Regardless of whatever attempt at a change of heart she’d made so far on this journey, she was sashaying on Hook’s last nerve.

“This is a _heavy ship_ ,” Hook snapped. “It’s going to take some time to get her up in the air, you know.” Gods knew the woman’s arse and ego wouldn’t help matters.

Hook caught the spyglass Charming lobbed at him on his way back to the quarterdeck, where he approached Henry and set a hand on his shoulder. “Master Mills, I think it’s time you retire to our agreed-upon hiding place—”

“Wait—I-I can’t help?”

“—unless you’ve decided that you are, in fact, quite fed up with your shadow and would like to have it brutally ripped from your person and—”

“ _Okay,_ okay,” Henry said, hands up in surrender and then dropping them to his sides. “I just…don’t wanna be so useless.”

Hook glanced at Charming, an involuntary gesture due to the fact that the young man was indeed Henry’s grandfather. Grandfather Charming merely frowned, confused and suspicious. But it wasn’t as if Hook was asking permission anyway. It was _his_ ship.

He dropped down to one knee and leveled with Henry. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out a curved, seven-inch knife and held it up between them. “You wait for your opportune moment,” he said quietly, studying the young man’s expression. “The element of surprise is always man’s best friend.”

Henry nodded and gingerly reached for the small weapon, but Hook snatched it out of his reach.

“ _Never_ hesitate with a weapon, mate—whether you’re picking it up or wielding it. Treat it with the respect and deliberation it deserves, for it will save your life or take it.”

Henry nodded once again, lips pursed as he stared Hook in the eye. He pulled the knife firmly from the captain’s hand. Brows furrowed, he looked up to his grandfather, not seeking permission either, but rather _support_. So Charming could only nod and hope whatever sword lesson he’d given Henry was enough.

“Good man. Now go,” Hook commanded softly, nudging him toward door leading to the brig. Once Henry was safely below, Hook glanced aft, gauging how long they had—which wasn’t long at all. He dropped back down to the main deck and pulled open a chest hidden under the quarterdeck stairs. “Swan!”

“What?” She jogged up behind him.

He paused, feeling the gradual fade of the rocking as the _Jolly Roger_ stabilized as it began to rise from the water. _Finally_.

“How’s your arm?” he asked, turning to Emma and nodding toward her bandaged shoulder.

Thanks to the Lost Boys’ ambush as they made their escape from Hook’s hideout, she’d taken a tumble down a hill and nearly flew off the cliff edge at the bottom. Thankfully, David had met them in the middle, and he and Hook managed to pull her back to safety.

“Functioning,” she answered flatly, eyeing the cutlass he pulled from the chest.

Hook sighed, thoroughly unconvinced, and hooked her right wrist, bringing it up so he could wrap her finger around the handle of the cutlass and squeezed gently. _“Be careful.”_

Her frown softened—though not quite affectionate, it was enough for him. Tilting her hand, he lifted it, kissed her knuckles, and then released her to turn back to the chest. He didn’t miss the look on her face, and that expression, combined with the slow lift he could feel reverberating through his ship, made him smile.

“Where’s Henry?” Regina asked, running up to them.

“Hidden,” he answered. “Safe.”

“Is that your plan?” the Crocodile asked, limping over to them. “You’re going to use _swords_ against five-centimeter insects?”

Hook cast him a sideways glare and tossed Charming a broadsword. Then he skirted around the mainmast to the chest on the other side. He kicked it open revealing small canvas bags.

Regina sniffed. “I thought you were friends with the pixies, and yet you have a chest full of iron?”

“There’s only one pixie I liked, and her personality was loony enough to escape the psychotic derangement of her comrades. Of _course_ I’ve got a bloody chest of iron. Though my status as a pirate is beginning to wane considering the lack of pirating I’ve been doing, I’m not an idiot.” His eyes involuntarily found Emma again—until Grandfather Charming discreetly whapped his knee with the flat of his blade. Hook scowled at the man and slammed the chest closed.

“We just…throw this up at them?” Snow asked, picking up one of the bags.

“Yes, but that’ll only incapacitate them,” Hook answered.

The Crocodile sneered. “And what’s your suggestion to finish the job?”

“Well, if your willingness to crush and destroy hasn’t abated since _our_ little incident, I suggest you employ that same tactic with the pixies,” Hook said.

“Princess,” he said to Snow, motioning to the bow and quiver strapped to her back, “if you’d please take your position in the crow’s nest. Keep a lookout.”

Snow nodded. She trapped the rim of the bag between her teeth before darting up the rigging to her new post.

“That thing’s a shadow,” Regina said. “I don’t know what good this iron will do to him.”

“Leave him to me,” Hook said with a grimace.

Hook turned back to the rest of their little crew—Prince Charming swinging his sword, Emma exercising her arm, the Dark One glaring at him, Regina hefting a bag of iron. “Crocodile,” he sighed, “man the helm—hard to port. Charming, Mayor, load a port and starboard cannon.”

“Why?” Emma asked the other two darted off to either side of the ship.

“We’re rising from the water, but we need to get up faster,” Hook said, pulling out a chest and handing it to Charming. “The fuses, mate.”

Emma smiled a little. “You’re gonna use the cannons to propel us up?”

He grinned and winked in reply. “Spot on, love. But that’s only step one. We may be up in the air, but as you can see, they are _flying_.”

“What are our chances, even in the air?” Emma asked.

“With the _savior_ onboard? Exponentially high.”

She scowled at him in reply.

“Well, having _me_ helps, of course,” Hook muttered, “but considering we’ve got Gimpy over there and a queen who’s never wielded a sword without some magic… Not to mention your injured arm and the wonderful fact that we’re outnumbered and that your father still hasn’t quite got his sea legs and he’s firing a bloody cannon?”

“So basically you’re saying this is all riding on you and Mary Margaret?”

“Unless our resident witch and warlock suddenly regain full use of their magic and turn every one of those buggers into wisps of smoke in the wind…?”

Emma sighed and held onto the railing, rubbing her shoulder as the _Jolly Roger_ turned, tipping the deck slightly. “We’re screwed.”

He gripped the railing beside her and leaned over the side, noting how far up they’d gone. “You really didn’t inherit your mother’s positivity, did you?” He turned to Rumplestiltskin. “Crocodile! Are we in position?!”

“Yes!”

Hook turned back to Charming and Regina, who were ready with the cannons, pointing downward into the ocean. He reached out and held Emma’s good arm. “Princess!” he roared up at the crow’s nest. Her dark head poked out over the side. “Brace yourself!” He looked back at Charming and Regina and nodded. “On my mark. Three—two—one— _fire!_ ”

The two cannons exploded, and the ship lurched, rocketing up out of the water. Emma stumbled, but Hook’s steady hand kept her from falling to the floor the way Charming and Regina had. As soon as the shaking stopped, Hook leaned over the edge of the railing again and saw that they were finally in the air and quickly rising, He released Emma and ran to the chest by the mainmast.

“What are you doing?” she asked, helping Charming up from the floor.

He yanked open the chest and pulled out a wad of glittering netting. He ran back to the port cannon. “It’s rope infused with iron and star dust—it’ll catch some of the pixies and send them down into the water. One of my best ideas, I think.”

How he managed to singlehandedly clean, load, aim, and fire the cannon, none of them would be able to describe, but they all watched the small tuft of glimmering netting puff out of the cannon and into the sky, unfurling into a wide blanket of intricate webbing that sailed straight toward the cloud of pixies. The buggers tried to disperse, but at least a third of them were caught under the net and dropped into the water.

“Do you have any more of those?” Charming asked.

Hook sighed. “Unfortunately, no. Took me a whole bloody month to make that one.”

“Now what?!” Regina called over the rush of wind as they picked up speed.

“Now we use the iron,” Hook replied blandly. He turned to Emma as Charming unsheathed his sword. “Do not—under any circumstances—go down to the brig. Do _not_ give away Henry’s position.”

Instead of being offended, Emma only nodded. “I know.”

And because they’d saved each other enough to lose count during the course of their journeys, Hook kicked caution clear off the side of the ship. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek again. Right in front of her father.

“Watch your shoulder, love,” he muttered against her cheek, lips brushing her skin with every word and making her freeze. “Wouldn’t want _our_ swordfight to be postponed for much longer, hm?”

He stepped back and Emma released a deep breath.

“ _Jeez_ , Hook.”

He stuffed a bag of iron into her hand and then ran off. The shadow and the remaining pixies had spread out, circling the top of the _Jolly Roger_. Snow had somehow managed to set her arrow tips on fire and was now firing them at anything within range with awe-inspiringly accuracy. She somehow managed to skewer a couple of pixies at a time, but it wasn’t enough. They lit up the air above the ship, dancing merrily, before they suddenly swarmed.

“ _Fuck_ all of this,” Emma muttered as the furious chittering and chiming descended.

Hook chuckled at her and threw up the first handful of iron dust, and the chittering/chiming turned into screeching/hissing. The nearby pixies dropped onto the deck, and Hook immediately stabbed and stomped on as many writing little demons as he could.

The others quickly followed suit, throwing around handfuls of iron shavings from their bags. Clouds of iron dust enveloped the deck, Snow having chucked out her own bag, raining iron down so most of the pixies were trapped. However, the ones who managed to escape were getting smart, hovering just out of range.

“How far up are we?!” Hook called down to Charming from where he stood on the main boom, still swinging at a small group of pixies who were darting around him, swiping at him with their claws.

Charming pulled a Regina-swing and batted one out of the air before leaning over the railing. “‘Round seven hundred feet!”

“Witch! Warlock!” Hook roared. “Test the waters!”

“What the hell does that mean?!” Regina shrieked.

Hook growled. “MAGIC! USE IT!”

Regina lifted her hand, eyes narrowed in concentration as Emma fought off any pixies that were trying to attack. When her hand caught fire, Regina grinned. _“Finally.”_ Conjuring a fireball in each hand, Regina started firing into the sky and fiery pixies began to drop.

“Don’t set my bloody ship on the fire in the process!” Hook bellowed before grabbing a rope and swinging around to the other side of the mainmast.

Charming somehow managed to find one of the muskets and was now firing at pixies, protecting Gold, who was trying to steer the ship. Regina was still throwing fireballs, and Emma had unconsciously moved to protect the door leading below decks. The pixies were dwindling quickly, but Pan’s shadow had caught hold of one of the lanterns hanging from the mast, and from the direction it was flying, the sails were in serious jeopardy.

“PRINCESS!” Hook roared.

Snow’s bow quickly swiveled, and upon finding Hook’s finger pointing at her new target, she began firing arrows at the shadow. She managed to hit the lantern, shattering the glass and sending it out of the shadow’s grip. It harmlessly fell over the side of the ship, but the shadow’s attention was successfully-but-unfortunately diverted.

“EMMA!” Snow shrieked at an unholy pitch.

Hook immediately swiveled to see Emma trying to peel a pixie off her face. It was because of the pixie that she didn’t see the shadow hurtling straight to her.

Charming was too far away, Regina was preoccupied with trying to keep the pixies from sabotaging the ship, the Crocodile was trying to keep the ship on course, and Snow’s angle prevented her from shooting the shadow without shooting Emma in the process.

Hook didn’t even think about it; there was no hesitation.

For three hundred years— _three hundred years_ —he sat on his life, forcing it under his grip instead of letting it run its course. He sped up his childhood in his attempt to prolong it, he froze his youth for revenge, and he aged himself in his own mind. Three hundred years of denial and regrets and sadness and pain; of the need to forget the past, of the need to escape, of the desire to run; of everything he wished he had and everything he wished he didn’t. And he threw it all down the same way he threw himself back down to the deck.

He leapt off, the rope still in his grip burning his skin, and hit the deck in front of Emma. The white eyes were all he saw when the shadow tried to stop itself from careening straight into Hook, but it was too late. The wispy blackness slammed into his chest just as Emma finally managed to rip the pixie off her face.

“Hook!” she cried, but her voice was muffled—as if he was underwater and she above it.

In the few times he’d contemplated it, he expected the sensation to feel like ice— _ice_ seeping into his bones and frosting over his skin and congealing his blood. It didn’t feel _at all_ like ice.

It felt like tears.

The deeper the shadow sunk into him, absorbing like water into cloth, the heavier the pressure in his chest became, filling his lungs and choking his throat.

Warmth, weight, and water—a hot spring in a blizzard. And like the cold he hadn’t known he’d harbored abated with the heat, the hazy reality succumbed to nightmares.

* * *

“Hook!” Emma rushed forward to catch him when he suddenly collapsed.

“What the hell?!” Regina shrieked furiously, nearly setting the mainsail on fire in her shock.

Emma tried to keep Hook upright, but he was too heavy. She stumbled backward against mainmast and sliding down so he was leaning back on her chest, her legs on either side of him. “The shadow just—I don’t know!” She pressed her fingers against the side of his neck. “He’s still alive, but he’s not waking up.”

“Enough of this!” Gold finally snapped, having seen and understood exactly what had happened. He yanked the back of David’s shirt, hauling him behind the helm. “Keep us on course,” he ordered.

Gold stood in front of the helm, briefly taking in the mess of the ship—pixies flittering left and right, small patches of fires here and there. Then he clapped his hands, and shockwaves rippled out, sending the pixies flying ass over wingtips off the ship. Regina made quick work of them, whipping out lashes of fire that turned them into ash.

Snow dropped back down onto the deck, rushing over to where Emma and Hook were lying.

“Gold, do you know anything about this?” Regina asked as he hobbled down the quarterdeck stairs.

“I have my suspicions,” he replied evasively.

“Well, what are they?” Snow asked, glancing up at him as she gently dabbed away some of the blood on Emma’s face—courtesy of the pixie who’d tried to peel it off.

“Can you revive him?” Regina asked. “Actually, can he even be revived _at all_? I mean, I’ve heard of the shadow ripping out other shadows, not the _opposite_.”

“Why _did_ it get sucked into him?” Snow asked. “The way things looked, it was like the shadow was trying to stop itself from doing it.”

Emma grimaced as she tried to shift Hook so he wasn’t lying on her bad shoulder. And yet she didn’t try to move him away from her completely. It was an action that was not missed by Snow, much to Emma’s chagrin.

“It must have something to do with whatever Hook was hiding from us,” Regina said. “Remember that drivel he spewed in his hideout?”

“Wait, wait,” Emma breathed, looking down at how tightly clenched her fingers were around Hook’s leather coat.

There was no sign, no burn marks or anything, of the shadow. It was just an unconscious pirate captain in her arms.

Regina frowned. “What?”

“Henry,” Emma said, looking up at the three assembled in front of her.

Regina and Snow seemed to catch on.

Snow jumped to her feet and ran for the door leading below. “Henry!” she called, throwing it open. “Henry, they’re gone! Come out, honey!”

“What does the boy know?” Gold asked.

“He somehow figured out Hook’s secret. Though it didn’t matter at the time,” Regina answered, throwing a pointed look at Emmma, “now is a perfect opportunity for a little storytelling.”

There was some thumping, then some rustling, then footsteps clumping up the stairs, and Henry emerged, throwing off a thick blanket. The smile he’d directed at Snow immediately fell when he spotted Hook and Emma on the floor. He sprinted over, nearly sliding on his knees the last foot or so.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Did the pixies get him? Did his shadow get stolen?”

“The—Henry, the shadow got sucked into him and he collapsed,” Snow answered.

“Whatever you and Hook were keeping secret, you need to tell us now,” Regina said, running her fingers over his hair.

“He’s Pan!” Henry blurted out hurriedly, looking up at them. “He’s _Peter Pan_. Th-The shadow is _his_.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Regina sighed.

“He’s _Captain Hook and Peter Pan_ at the _same time_?!” David barked from the helm.

“That’s why he knew about the Star of Neverland,” Henry said. “He was there when it hit the island. He was there right from the start.”

“But…” Emma looked down at Hook again. “But he said his name was Jones.”

“It could be an alias,” Snow offered.

“Or this man is just a pathological liar,” Regina huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “which is a theory I’m inclined to believe.”

“He’s not a liar,” Emma said flatly. She turned to Henry. “Who told you all this?”

“The Lost Boys,” Henry replied. “When I said the shadow went all red-eyed, it stormed off, and one of the Lost Boys told me.”

“What else did they say about him?”

Henry shook his head. “Just that the shadow wants him dead.”

Regina nodded in understanding. “That makes sense.”

“What?” Snow asked.

“Of course the shadow would want him dead,” Regina said. “If he was there at the beginning—when the meteor hit—the magic that warped the fairies must have ripped his shadow from him and caused it to…have a life of its own. If Hook—Pan, Jones, whatever his name is—was dead, the shadow’s problems are solved. It could maintain its sentience.”

“We need to wake him up,” Emma said. “Get the story straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“More like the ass’s mouth,” David said from his post.

“Language!” Snow barked.

Henry started poking Hook’s chest. “Wake up,” he said. “Come on, Killian.”

Emma started shaking him and then patting his cheek. “Wake-y, wake-y, numbnuts,” she muttered. “Get up.”

“Are you sure he’s even still alive?” Regina asked.

Snow leaned forward, her cheek close to his nose. “He’s still breathing.”

“Unfortunately,” Gold muttered darkly. He walked around to Hook’s other side, opposite Henry and Snow. Bending onto one knee, he pressed his hand against Hook’s chest and closed his eyes.

Two seconds passed before Hook’s eyes snapped open. Henry, Snow, and Gold took note of the wateriness of those eyes, but it was Emma who nudged him forward so he could sit up, drop his head, and surreptitiously wipe his face.

Breathing deeply, Hook glanced back at Emma with an unreadable explanation.

“Welcome back, _Peter_ ,” Regina said.

Hook looked up at her and then moved his gaze to the others. “Spilled the beans, did you, Master Mills?”

Henry shrugged. “Had to.”

“Are you okay?” Emma asked, pushing herself up to her feet and holding a hand out to him.

He took it with a nod and a bland smile. “Spectacular.”

“I think it’s time you give us a history lesson, pirate,” Gold said, sneering.

Hook brushed himself off, expression unreadable. “Shipwreck got me stranded on an island as a lad,” he said flatly. “A star hit the island. The magic of the island was poisoned—caused the fairies to become pixies, caused time to stand still on the island, caused my shadow and I to split. Bloody thing took on a life of its own, a personality that can be hearkened to a petulant child only a bit more megalomaniacal than your typical eight-year-old. Began bringing children to the island, convincing them that they can be children forever, never having to grow up, so they could be… _playmates_ forever. I found my way back home; the shadow stayed. I grew up. End of story.”

He looked up at David, who was frowning down at him, though the expression was just as unreadable as Hook’s. “Aim for the second star to the right,” he ordered, pointing at the night sky. “We’ll sail straight through ‘til morning.”

Hook turned back at the rest of them, congregated around him. “Satisfied? Now if you’ll please excuse me.” And then he turned his back on them and walked away to the door leading below. “Captain’s quarters are still yours, Henry,” he called over his shoulder.

Because of his vantage point, it was only David who saw what Hook did once his back was turned: Grimacing in pain, he lifted his hand and pressed it against his chest.

* * *

Neverland was far behind them when the sky began to lighten into morning. Hook had relieved Prince Charming of his post once the rest of the group had gone to sleep, unable to sleep himself.

Reckoned there would be many a sleepless night for the near future, all things considered.

However, he had more pressing issues to deal with: the foremost being the fact that while the land that lay in front of him was indeed _familiar_ , it was not the land they’d intended.

“No,” Emma said flatly.

“You have got to be _kidding me_ right now!” Regina shrieked.

“Calm yourself, woman!” Hook barked, rolling his eyes and leaning his elbow against the helm. Though secretly, he agreed with the sentiment.

“I thought the pixie dust was supposed to get us home,” Snow said.

“I suppose it all depended on what each of us believed was home,” Hook answered, scowling ahead.

Henry jogged up to the bow, coming to stand between Charming and Emma.

Charming set his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Enchanted Forest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of Headcanons:  
> 1) Killipan (obviously)  
> 2) Rumple and Regina both cannot use magic because of the world (much in the same way Regina couldn’t use her magic in the beginning of the second season; the world is different, bros)  
> 3) Neverland Origin Story


	5. for pete's sake

**v. for pete’s sake**

* * *

 

“What’s the plan now?” Emma asked. She stood at the railing overlooking the main deck; her eyes were trained on her family, standing at the bow—Henry in between Charming and Snow. Her arms were crossed over her chest, the slight grimace on her face making the atmosphere on the ship more tense than it could have been.

“Regroup, I suppose,” Hook answered from the helm. “The star dust we have left isn’t enough to get the ship in the air again, and apparently there’s no telling if we’re aiming at the correct realm anymore.”

She glanced back at him, her mouth set in a straight line. “Why didn’t you tell us about that before?”

“About what, love?” he asked, turning the wheel a few degrees. They’d make harbor soon.

“About the pix— _star_ dust getting us back to Storybrooke.” Emma’s frown deepened, suspicion and distrust staring back at him again.

“If I’d known what the risks were, I would’ve told you,” he said, meeting her gaze with as much openness as he could muster. “Sprinkling the dust over the ship was a last resort back then—when it was me and my crew. But it was our only option in this instance, darling, _trust me_.”

Emma’s dark expression faded, and she shook her head, rubbing her hands over her face as she turned and looked at him. “No—no, I’m sorry. Just—I’m tired, and I just…want to go home. It’s not…just forget it.”

He rested his elbow between the handles of the wheel and turned to look at her. “Emma, have you slept at all?”

“No.”

“Well, then.”

Emma sighed again—this time more of a groan than a sigh—and raked her fingers through her hair. “I just—I mean…”

“Consolidate your thoughts, love. You’ve _just_ twice already.”

She scowled briefly, and he smirked. She took a few deep breaths and looked out to her left, over the ocean. “Is going home _that much_ to ask for?”

“Well, _technically_ , home—” Hook stopped when he saw her face. And then he had to physically stop himself from leaving his post because of that face.

He had no right to go to her. Not in any way like that. And she wouldn’t appreciate it.

“I’m _happy_ ,” she said firmly. “I’m _happy_ that Henry’s back, that he’s _safe_ , but after everything, all I want to do is…lock him in a tower and keep him safe _forever_.”

Hook continued to watch her tired, frustrated demeanor harden into the walls she so loved. Or at least the walls she was so accustomed to.

And then he nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you really?” She turned to him again, hazel eyes light in the late morning sun.

“I’ve never had children,” he stated. “I’ve come close to it, yes, but never had one to call my own. My understanding stems from the fact that there are people I have cared…and currently care about…that I would do anything to keep safe.”

She looked away again, but the pressure in his shoulders remained.

“Take Henry, for instance,” Hook continued. “We’ve not spoken much, but…I know he’s a good boy. The world—whichever world—would be a lot brighter if it saw him grow up to be a man.”

That was when she completely turned her back on him again.

“He’s the son of the savior, the son of the Evil Queen, the grandson of the Dark One, the grandson of Snow White and Prince Charming,” he said. “He so desperately wants to be a hero, and this will be only the first of many situations in which he will be able to be one.”

“What are you saying?”

“At the risk of repeating what you may already know, I’m _telling_ you that your son will find himself in many dangerous circumstances, ones that none of us may be able to prevent,” he said cautiously. “Towers be damned. But that’s not going to stop us from doing our best to keep him safe, to support him, and to be his _home_ —to be the place he can always know he can return to.”

She braced her hands on the railing, elbows locked and shoulders hunched. Henry turned and waved at her and Hook with a wide smile.

“Almost to shore, Master Mills,” Hook called, waving his hook in greeting.

“You said ‘we.’”

Hook focused back on Emma, who had turned to face him again. “Pardon?”

“You said _we_ would do our best to keep him safe,” she said, expression mildly shocked.

He nodded. “Because _we_ will. I may not have any blood ties to him, but he’s my friend. I promised you I would help bring him back home, and I will. But now this is as much my own compulsion to help him as it is to help you.”

“Hey!”

Hook and Emma turned to face Regina as she thumped up the stairs.

“Do you two idiots have any idea about how to get us to where we _actually_ wanted to go?”

Hook grimaced at her pleasantly. “Isn’t it your turn to contribute escape strategies?”

“ _You’re_ the captain.”

“And _you’re_ the witch.”

“ _I_ say we find Mulan and Aurora,” Emma interrupted, glancing at Hook. “ _Regroup_. I’m sure they’ll have a better idea or they can at least help us come up with… _something_.”

“Look over there!”

Hook, Emma, and Regina all turned to look where Henry was pointing. Snow had scaled some of the rigging to get a better look at the plume of smoke rising from the shore.

“It’s a signal!” Snow yelled down.

“If that’s a distress signal, I’m going to kill something,” Regina muttered darkly. “One day’s peace. _One_ day.”

* * *

A soldier with Aurora’s emblem met them at the shore next to the signal bonfire and took them back to the castle to meet the princess and “the others.” Emma, Snow, and Hook exchanged glances, wondering who “the others” could be considering the last time they’d been there, it’d only been Mulan and Aurora. Hook posited it’d be a benevolent ogre, tamed by the ferocious Mulan. Snow theorized it’d be one of the other Knights of the Round Table, spurred to help and regroup after Lancelot’s death. Emma sourly predicted it’d be Aladdin and Jasmine, come to seek asylum from Jafar’s malfeasance—whomever those people were. (Though Henry, Charming, and Snow seemed to recognize the names, according to their chuckles.) Regina, on the other hand, believed it wholeheartedly to simply be more idiots to join the party, to which Hook replied that she would obviously be the guest of honor.

Regina was correct.

Upon reaching the courtyard, the doors swung open, and four people exited. Snow instinctively reached for Emma’s hand, and all of them—Charming, Snow, Regina, Emma, and Hook—unconsciously formed a barrier around Henry. He peeked between Charming and Emma, his shoulder grasped by Hook’s hand.

“Wait,” Snow gasped. “W-Wait, Emma—I-I thought—but—”

The Dark One’s cane dropped, clattering on the cobblestone. Hook narrowed his eyes in suspicion, Charming reached behind him, as if making sure Henry was still protected, and Regina rolled her eyes and muttered, _“One damn day.”_

“Dad!” Henry broke out from behind Charming and Emma, sprinted across the courtyard, and leapt into Baelfi— _Neal’s_ —arms.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Regina asked with her usual candor.

“Bae?” the Dark One called hesitantly, limping over.

Neal didn’t say much. He only let go of Henry long enough to hug his father briefly. As soon as Henry was back in his arms, he turned to Emma.

“Emma!” Aurora ran up to them with a grin nearly as big as Henry’s. “Snow! You’re back!” She rushed forward and  yanked the both of them into hugs—mother hugging back in warm confusion, daughter standing there, wide-eyed and focused entirely on Neal.

“Aurora, this is Regina, my stepmother,” Snow said, motioning to Regina. She hesitated when she gestured at the Dark One. “This is, uh, Rumplestiltskin and then David, my husband,” Snow added quickly, hoping to glaze over those two as quickly as possible.

“The famous Prince Charming,” Aurora said, dropping into a curtsey. “Pleasure to have finally met you, Your Highness. And _Henry_!” The princess spotted the youngest of their group.

Henry managed to extricate himself from his father’s side to hug the princess. “Nice to finally see you outside of that room, Your Highness.” Hook took note of the way Emma and Neal stepped toward each other as Henry skipped off.

Aurora squeezed him and stroked his hair. “I think we’ve been through enough to rid ourselves of formalities. Please, call me Aurora.”

“And you can call me _confused_ ,” Hook said, fixing his attention away from the two former lovers and onto the fourth member of the welcoming party, earning a scowl from the man in question. “Philemon? Aren’t you supposed to be dead too?”

Mulan’s warm welcome was her sword at Hook’s throat. “It’s _Phillip_ , actually.”

Hook sighed, raising his hand and hook in surrender. “‘Ello, love. Nice to see you again as well.”

“Wait, wait— _what_? Someone needs to explain _exactly_ what is going on _right now_ ,” Regina snapped. “Who are you and why are you supposed to be dead? And you— _Baelfire_ —why are you suddenly alive and well too?”

“Regina, this is Mulan and Aurora,” Snow said, glancing at where Emma and Neal were speaking quietly off to the side. “Phillip…had been captured by the wraith before we all met, and they were trying to find a way to bring him back before we distracted them for a bit.”

“And we found Neal when he fell through the portal and nursed him back to health,” Aurora added.

“Okay, that’s simple enough,” Charming said, hand on his hips. He turned to Phillip. “What about you? I thought Snow said you’d been captured by one of those wraiths.”

Phillip glanced at Mulan and Aurora out of the corner of his eye. “Mulan and Aurora managed to save me not long ago.”

“That’s an evasive answer if I’ve ever heard one,” Hook said, smiling sweetly at the threesome. “Anyone care to elaborate?”

Mulan’s sword point dug deeper into his neck. “We saved him. He’s back. No need for elaboration.”

“How I’ve missed your reticence, soldier,” Hook said, flashing her a grin.

Her sword bit deeper still until Charming finally stepped in.

“Stop, stop,” he said, his hand on Hook’s shoulder and palm up to Mulan. “He’s on our side.”

The woman only scowled. “The last time—”

“The last time we were here, love, _I_ was the one who was betrayed and forced to turn to the enemy,” Hook reminded her, seeing Emma step away from Neal out of the corner of his eye.

“Hook?” Neal asked, eyes narrowed as he and Emma approached the group.

Hook smiled, a shade of a grimace. “Nice to see you alive and well, Baelfire.”

“You know him?” Mulan asked, _still_ not lowering her weapon and glancing back and forth between Hook and Neal.

“It’s a _small_ world,” Hook said, with the same pained smile.

“Hundreds of realms, and it’s still too damn small,” Regina groused.

“Are you related to use somehow?” Henry asked Phillip and Aurora.

Regina huffed, walking into the middle of the group. “I’m pretty sure they’re third cousins or something—can we focus on the issue here? Namely the issue of how to get _out_ of here?”

“We were in Neverland, but instead of getting back to Storybrooke, we landed here,” Charming said. “We were hoping that you could help us find our way back.”

“I think we know how that happened,” Neal said, glancing at the other three.

“Mulan, enough,” Emma said, suddenly coming up beside Hook and pushing the sword away. He glanced at her, but she didn’t look at him. “He’s on our side now.”

Mulan reluctantly sheathed her sword but unfortunately did not put away the fierce expression she directed at Hook.

“There’s something wrong with the dimensions, the _realms_ ,” Neal continued. “Things are popping up around here that don’t belong.”

“Like _us_?”

“Regina, hush,” Snow chided before turning back to Neal. “What do you mean?”

“One of the scouts found a blender,” Neal answered. “In the _woods._ ”

“A _blender_?” Henry echoed. “You mean, like, an _actual_ electrical blender that makes smoothies and milkshakes and stuff?”

Neal nodded. “Yeah.” He looked at Regina and the Dark One pointedly. “Perform any unstable magic recently?”

Regina frowned, seemingly trying to remember something, but the Dark One only blinked.

“Wait—Gold, didn’t you put a cloaking spell on Storybrooke?” Emma asked.

Regina’s expression cleared. “The…cloaking spell.” She turned to the Dark One, eyes wide and accusing. “That wasn’t a cloaking spell, at all, was it?”

“Wait—what?” Charming interrupted.

Regina held up her hand to his face for silence. “You put the town in _limbo_ , didn’t you? In order to completely prevent anyone from entering the town, you had to separate it from the rest of the world—the _realm—_ because you didn’t have a curse to anchor the magic of a cloaking spell the way mine did, _didn’t you_?!”

“I did not anticipate the sudden time differences, dearie,” the Dark One hissed, finally and completely snapping out of his stupor. “Time in Neverland should have passed like mere moments, split-seconds. The magical disruption that _your_ curse caused because of your brilliant idea to transplant magic into a non-magical realm has skewed everything. We were supposed to be in Neverland for only a short time—long enough so that my spell would protect the town without any adverse side effects manifesting.”

“Wait!” Emma barked. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“The best protection for Storybrooke—to prevent _anyone_ from entering it—was to put it in a limbo between realms, a complete separation. To be specific, I put the town in between the Enchanted Forest and the Land Without Magic. Time in Neverland is supposed to pass much slower than in Storybrooke, so I knew that I would be back in time to lift the spell and keep a wormhole from forming between the realms, but I was mistaken. The imbalance caused by Regina’s curse twisted the magic in other realms so that time began to pass differently as well as destabilize certain types of magic—namely my spell protecting Storybrooke.”

“So you two,” Neal said, “managed to create some sort of _wormhole between the realms_ so that things are _slipping through the cracks._ ”

“Oh, my God,” Snow muttered, pacing away from them, rubbing her face.

“So how do we _fix_ it?!” Charming demanded, glaring back and forth between the Dark One and Regina.

“I need to re-anchor Storybrooke in its proper realm and seal the wormhole that must have formed,” the Dark One answered. “If you supply us with a way to get back to Storybrooke, I’ll seal the holes.”

Hook caught Regina’s eye and smirked smugly. “One day?”

She glowered at him. “I will kill you.”


	6. for the love of pete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won’t make lame, pathetic excuses. There is only one thing I’m going to say and you’re going to nod in complete understanding:  
>  _Finals._  
> 

**vi. for the love of pete**

* * *

 

After that initial meeting in the courtyard, Aurora led them inside and called for food to be laid out. The fare was meager, as they had neither need nor time for a celebratory feast. Instead of sitting down to eat, they’d chosen to break off and explore the rest of the castle grounds, stretching their legs and taking well-needed breaks from one another, as being cooped up on a ship for any amount of time with these types of people was an exercise in anger management.

The Dark One and Neal had their little heart-to-heart in the corner of the dining room, Henry got caught up with Aurora, Mulan, and Phillip, and Snow dragged Emma back out into the courtyard for what seemed to be a tense mother-daughter bonding session.

Hook, naturally, went off on his own, armed with his rum at his hip and a plate of bread, chicken, and every type of vegetable laid on the table. Prince Charming, unfortunately, deemed it appropriate to intrude on the pirate captain’s solitude on a second-floor balcony.

“You functional?” Charming asked, ever-so-charmingly.

Hook scowled, and not turning around from where he sat on stone railing, he waved his hand over his shoulder. “Of course.”

“No, you’re not.”

Hook rolled his eyes. “Are you my physician now? An expert on my health?”

“You had an evil shadow disappear into your chest. There are bags under your eyes, and you haven’t slept in two days—unless you can sleep on your feet with your eyes open and your hands moving the wheel.”

“I’ve lived a couple centuries on a ship, mate. Who’s to say I can’t?”

Charming set his own half-full plate on the railing beside Hook and took a bite of his bread roll. “So you gonna tell me what really happened to you? And _not_ the abridged version that you gave before.”

“Go eat your food in peace, and leave me to mine, Your Highness,” Hook sighed.

“Only when you give me the whole story, Jones.”

“Can’t pester me forever, mate. It can’t be good for your heart—unhealthy, you know.”

“So is emotional suppression, _mate_.”

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you it’s bad manners to be nosy?”

“You’re gonna lecture me about manners, pirate?”

“You all really need to stop making generalizations about people,” Hook grumbled, shaking his head. There wasn’t enough rum in the world to deal with this family.

“I just want the whole story,” Charming said. “I don’t like being kept in the dark, especially where my family’s concerned.”

Hook turned to look at him, hand over his chest. “Be still my heart. Am I your family now?”

“No,” Charming answered with a grimace, “but people of my family…have made emotional attachments to you. And that means you fall under my jurisdiction of worrying.”

“I’m both disgusted and touched.”

“Look, you’ve been…a pretty good guy since you came back to Storybrooke and helped us get to Neverland,” Charming said, with no trace of chagrin or reluctance in spite of the pointed, knowing look he gave Hook. “You haven’t given us a single reason to think you’d betray us, and while I absolutely _abhor_ the root reason for why you’re helping us, I can’t help but respect that and understand that it’s a major driving force that will ultimately help and not harm.”

“Have you been drinking the mead? I told Philemon it was too sweet, but he only winked at me and chugged the rest of his cup. Strange bloke, but only the strangest for sleeping beauty, I suppose.”

Charming’s eyes narrowed. “I know you’re only doing this for Emma.”

“Well, I’m certainly not doing this to win _your_ affections.”

“There we go,” Charming said, almost proudly. “I’m gonna take that as your declaration of intent.” He took the last bite out of his chicken leg.

“Take whatever you want as whatever you will,” Hook said. “That doesn’t make it truth.”

“All I want is the whole story,” Charming said.

“And I just want to be left alone,” Hook countered. “Seems we’re at an impasse.” He could almost hear the prince’s teeth grinding in frustration.

“It may not be pertinent in our current situation, but the fact that Henry looks up to you and Emma’s starting to like you and Snow may or may not already give you a standing invitation for dinner one of these days, means I have to worry about you as a whole, and that means knowing where you come from. I just wanna know the whole story.” Charming, in some sort of fit of companionship, rapped him on the arm with the back of his hand. “We’ve all got our torrid pasts. Regina, Gold, Snow, Emma… It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“There is a difference between shame and simply not wanting to relive the past,” Hook said.

“You know what they say about the future.”

“That it is, in fact, _separate_ from the past?” Hook asked, leaning his head back with a longsuffering sigh.

“No, that it’s as much a part of you as your past.”

“There must be very many sayings about the future.”

Hook looked down at Charming, who leaned against the railing, an elbow by his plate, and stared right back up at Hook. Scowling, Hook turned away again and shoved an entire leaf of lettuce into his mouth.

The expression on Charming’s face was something that hadn’t been directed at him in centuries—the look of a stern, unyielding father. It didn’t help that he was sitting on the bloody railing, feet dangling over the side. Thankfully he was eating all his vegetables, else he should probably throw himself off the edge since his dignity had already taken the plunge.

“My father and I were passengers aboard a ship, all right?” Hook finally conceded. “I’d insisted on coming with him even though he’d told me I couldn’t—just like any other boy of that age who wanted to spend some bloody time with his father. We made port one night, but it wasn’t our stop yet. However, Father decided it was his time to leave, though he didn’t think it wise to bring me. So I awoke the next morning, out at sea and fatherless. There would be no turning around.

“The crew consoled me the best they could, teaching me the ins and outs of life at sea, but they didn’t survive their lesson on hurricanes. We were shipwrecked. I washed up on the shores of what would be Neverland. Two weeks, I was alone, somehow managing to survive off fruit and a torn sail for shelter. On my sixteenth day, I met a fairy. Her name was Tinkerbell. On the verge of exile from the fairy hollow because of her proclivity for rebellion and adventure, she familiarized me with the island and its inhabitants, which meant warning me of the other fairies. She had to bring me to them, of course, though I used an alias— _Peter Pan_ , an imaginative name borne out of a reference to the pearly gates, eternal damnation, and being cooked in hell for all eternity. They kept me in the Hollow, a compassionate and benevolent gesture that ensured I would in no way impede with their rigid rules and directives.

“So when the scouts saw the falling star, it was a fairly amusing sight to see absolute pandemonium in the Hollow. It wasn’t as amusing when it slammed into the forest, though. It was coming too quickly, so Tink shoved me in some magical hut, protected by some spell, so that when the magic of the star hit and combined with the fairies’ magic, I was spared the psychotic break. Instead, it ripped my shadow from me.”

“What exactly does that…entail, anyway?” Charming asked, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning pensively.

“It entails having a certain amount of your childishness, your innocence, being forcibly separated from oneself,” Hook answered. “For a child, it means having your whimsy, your carefree natures, your easy trust—it’s pulled away so that you feel nothing more than a thirty-year-old in a seven year old body.”

“And for an adult?”

“For an adult, it means all of your hope, trust, and light being ripped from you. So you become naught but a shell of darkness. You are, for all intents and purposes, _dead_ ,” Hook answered flatly. He let that sink in for a few seconds as he took a bite from his chicken leg. “At least that’s what I’ve seen and been told from those who have managed to survive the ordeal or maintain any semblance of speech capabilities.

“My shadow was a child. I lost my childhood when I was separated from it, so I was more serious and withdrawn, but my shadow was the worst form of adolescence. Though it could not speak, it was petulant and selfish. It longed for companionship, a _friend_. And so it flew off and kidnapped other children, forcing them to stay with him forever. Some he managed to thoroughly turn to his side, others managed to keep their wits about and attempt escape.”

“What happened to you?” Charming asked. “While your shadow was…running around doing that, what happened to you?”

“I stayed with Tinkerbell, who managed to retain her personality in spite of the drastic shift from fairy to pixie. We stayed together on the other side of the island, avoiding the rest of the pixies as much as possible and seeking refuge with the Indians and even, on fair occasion, the mermaids. We would rescue the boys who refused to stay with my shadow, whom we dubbed the real Peter Pan when I refused to carry on the alias. We’d amassed a small army of boys when Pan grew from petulant and selfish to downright evil. He began to kill the boys who no longer wished to stay on the island. This was about the same time we all realized we’d stopped aging. One boy, Alexander, had been keeping track of the days with hash marks, and when we’d realized he’d been there five years without having ever aged a day…

“One would expect a child to be ecstatic about remaining a child for so long, no parental supervision, no responsibilities—but when we came to that realization, the boys wept. They missed their mums and dads, they missed their old friends, their homes. And so Tink and I made a plan to get them back home. We convinced the pixies that the abundance of children on the newly-named Neverland were going to be highly detrimental, so they pooled their magic and star dust and sent us back to the world from whence we came.

“What we hadn’t realized was how much time had passed between our arrival and our return—for the newer children, only five years had passed, for me it was fifty. We did our best to get accustomed, but most of us still wound up in orphanages. I grew up—or at least my body finally caught up to my mentality. There weren’t many positions I could attain as an orphan, so I joined the navy. Lived a good couple years as a sailor, paid my dues and all that. Then I learned of a string of disappearances— _little boys_.

“Tinkerbell had come to the world with me, but we parted ways as a boy and a pixie cannot always remain together. But she sought me out when the disappearances had grown too numerous. Pan was on the rampage. She enlisted the help of fairies she’d found and befriended, and we traveled back to Neverland to rescue the boys.”

“And let me guess—you stole a ship?”

“ _Commandeered_ , mate. We _commandeered_ a ship that would get us to Neverland and back, this time with as many boys as possible. You couldn’t expect us to carry them back with us, could you? Tink and I figured that Pan might have corrupted the pixies, so we couldn’t rely on them for much help. Hence the need for the ship. We did our best with the rescue mission, but there was a battle. Pan and the pixies cursed the boys, turning them into grown men, and banished all aboard the ship into a different land, one that none of us were from. So the cursed boys became my crew, and we sailed as pirates. There we met the Dark One, and you must know the rest.” Hook sighed and set his plate down to pull the flask from his hip and take a long drink.

“Why pirates?”

“When you sail into a harbor, your ship spattered with blood and your flag and sails torn, black, and smoking, you present a very despicable front to the people. We were deemed pirates long before we accepted the title, and once we were labeled, it became easier to follow the role rather than try to convince them otherwise.”

Charming balked at Hook’s description of his ship. “Spattered with blood?” he echoed. “I thought boys—”

“These were not seven or eight-year-olds we were fighting, Your Highness. You saw the Lost Boys who attacked us. The ones more easily swayed by Pan were the ones who were older—teenagers, young enough to still be pliable, but old enough to be naively staunch in their beliefs. It was the younger ones that we could save, the ones who missed their families and wanted to go home.”

“And so you killed them?” Charming asked, no sign of judgment or condemnation in his tone—something Hook greatly appreciated.

“They were killing us,” Hook answered softly. “We had no choice.”

“So what happens now that you have your shadow back?”

Hook shrugged, looking down at himself. “Suppose I got some of my whimsy back.” He then swung his legs over and dropped back down onto the balcony floor. That was more than enough talking for the day.

“Hey.”

Hook paused, almost through the balcony doors.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not holding this over your head. Whatever Pan was to you, and whatever you’ve done, that really _was_ your past,” Charming said. “As annoying as you are, you’ve been…invaluable.”

Hook nodded. “Well, that’s one opinion.”

Charming frowned. “No, it’s really not.”

* * *

Emma threw her head back and sighed, arms still crossed over her chest where she stood at the end of Aurora’s long table in the main dining hall. The food had been cleared away, to be replaced by a thick, tense atmosphere. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Snow rounded on the second-eldest in the room. “I thought you said the trident was with the mermaids.”

“Well, as far as I knew, it would have been,” Hook answered, scowling in offense. “It’s damn-near impossible to separate it from the mermaids. How was I supposed to know our little Crocodile decided to take a trip into deeper waters?”

Rumplestiltskin ignored him in favor of continuing his explanation, one that was earning less and less favor with the rest of the group.

“The reason why we’re not back in Storybrooke now is because we lacked a solid anchor to get us back,” he said, turning to Emma and Snow. “You two had the magic bean and then the compass. We only had star dust—a means of travel, not necessarily a means of direction.”

“Hold on a moment now—”

“Shut up,” the Lizard snapped, holding his hand up at Hook. “I know about the amount of shimmery belief and intense concentration one must need in order to properly wield the star dust, but when there are seven people onboard, with varying degrees of the necessary mental capacity, the magic will fail.”

“But you directed us to the second star to the right,” Charming said to Hook. “Wouldn’t that be the direction of _home_?”

“The second star to the right is the entrance to Neverland without a magical portal,” Hook said.

“So now we need the mermaid’s trident to open another _actual_ magical portal and more of the star dust to make sure the portal’s taking us in the right direction?” Henry asked, his gaze moving between everyone in the group.

“The _broken_ mermaid’s trident,” Emma corrected him.

“Okay,” the boy said slowly. “Rephrase—we need the mermaid’s trident to open a portal, but since it’s kinda broken, we also need the leftover star dust to help us direct the portal toward Storybrooke.”

“Apparently,” Neal said, sighing as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Bloke really needed to get over the fact that magic was an inescapable facet of his life. Acceptance is the first key to a stress-free lifestyle and all that shite.

“So what’s the problem? That sounds easy enough,” Henry said. He looked at the Dark One. “You said the trident was at your castle.”

“The problem is the amount of star dust we have left,” Regina said, leaning forward in one of the chairs and steepling her fingers. “Gold needs it to close the wormhole between here and Storybrooke so the universe doesn’t fall apart. We don’t have enough for both jobs.”

“Can’t you…use some other magical artifact to augment the star dust?” Emma asked.

Regina sighed, exasperated. “Magic is essentially another form of chemistry, you nitwit. You can’t just throw a bunch of stuff together and expect it to work. And even then, what are we supposed to do? Grind up a pair of ruby slippers and mix it in with the star dust?”

“Wait, would that work?” Neal asked the Dark One, to which the latter responded with a flat, “No.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Phillip asked.

“Cross our fingers?” Regina offered unhelpfully.

Emma caught Hook’s eye (not that it required much effort, all things considered; he’d been watching her, worried that stress and tension were the only things keeping her standing after how many hours of no sleep). “What do you think we should do?”

Hook met her gaze steadily, though he was slightly taken aback that she’d turned to him for advice. He’d earned her trust, that much had been established before. He hadn’t thought they’d reached the point where she was asking his opinion yet, but he wasn’t complaining. Apparently her father was right.

“I think that you’re once again putting too much stock in magic,” Hook said, focusing his words at the Dark One.

Rumplestiltskin sneered, but before he could speak, Hook cut him off.

“Star dust is potent. You’d only need half a thimbleful to take off into the skies. The reason we used so much is because we were putting it on an inanimate object—we needed to suffuse it with as much as possible because objects can’t _believe_ in something.”

“Get to the point,” Mulan said.

“The _Jolly Roger’s_ still infused with the magic of the star dust. It won’t wear off for another week or so. We don’t need to use any of the remaining star dust to get us back to Storybrooke,” Hook said. “We get back on my ship, use the trident to open a portal, and we sail through.”

“Isn’t that what Gold just said?” Emma asked.

“No, what the Crocodile is saying is that we bloody stir open a portal, pour some star dust in it, and sail through at the risk of not having enough to use to close the wormhole.” Hook glanced at Henry. “At the risk of suggesting the very avenue at which the Dark One sneered, the entire purpose of the star dust is belief, _hope_. Though pixie magic is much more volatile than fairy’s, the core of it is the same. Faith, trust, hope—all that.” He looked at Rumplestiltskin. “There would be no need to use any of the leftover star dust.”

Charming’s expression suddenly cleared, something dawning on him that made him cross his arms over his chest and smile smugly, staring at Hook with a knowing look. “How whimsical of you.”

Snow and Emma shot him confused glances, but Hook only rolled his eyes.

“But that’s still too much of a risk,” Neal said. “One person focusing on something is powerful; seven—or _eight_ —people is like trying to harness the power of a landslide. Can we risk winding up in another realm and starting over again?”

For someone who despised magic, he was remarkably well-versed in it. Probably why he loathed it so much.

“I agree with Hook.” Snow stepped forward, her hand resting on Hook’s arm for a second. “We were all too distracted when we left Neverland. We were all relieved to have Henry back, but I’ll be the first to say that my idea of home…was probably very different from yours.” She looked at Emma, guilty. “I just—”

Emma held up a hand. “No, it’s not your fault. You don’t have to explain yourself. I…I get it.” She turned to Hook. “Can we do it though? Can we really sail back with just the ship and the trident?”

Hook nodded. “Aye. Only if we all focus on the exact place we want to go—no nebulous inclinations of _home_.”

“We all have to think of Storybrooke,” Henry said, nodding.

“All right,” Emma said, nodding at Hook before turning to the Dark One. “Let’s get that trident and get back to the ship.”

The Crocodile looked less than enthused but nodded his assent anyway. “Very well.” He nodded at Neal. “Will you come back with me to the castle?”

“Yeah, sure.” Neal glanced at Emma. “You wanna come?”

She shook her head. “I’m gonna…help get the ship ready so we can go as soon as you get back.”

Hook raised an eyebrow but bent down and pretended to adjust his boot so no one could see. It would not take the better part of a day to ready his ship. Not unless Emma alone did it all.

“I’ll go,” Charming said. “Never know what might be lurking in that castle. It’s been abandoned for how many years, right?”

“I’ll come as well,” Mulan said.

“And me!” Henry piped up excitedly, regaining some more of his old, adventurous vigor.

 “You know, you don’t have to go with them,” a voice said from Hook’s left. He turned and met Prince Phillip’s brown eyes. “To Storybrooke, I mean. You can stay here.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t go with them?” Hook asked, hooking his thumb on his belt and narrowing his eyes at the younger man.

“Because you weren’t cursed like us. You don’t have the…false memories that’d help you integrate into the town,” Snow spoke up. Her brows had furrowed sympathetically. “You don’t have to stay in Storybrooke.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me coming along?” Hook asked.

“We do have ships here,” Aurora offered. “You can have one of them. We can give you a job. Or…you can go off and be a pirate still.”

Hook chuckled and took a step back. “I think I’ve proven myself to be trustworth—”

“We’re not doubting you again, I swear,” Emma said, coming up to him. She glanced at Snow. “It’s just that…” She looked up at him again, hazel green eyes genuine. “We thought that you might want to stay here instead. Piracy isn’t exactly a viable occupation anymore—at least not the kind you might be used to. I’m not doubting your abilities, it’s just that you’d have a lot to get accustomed to, and if you’ve been around for as long as you say you have…you may as well just…”

“What they’re saying is that you don’t belong in Storybrooke,” Regina said. “You walk around in black leather, a hook for a hand, and black kohl around your eyes. Good luck acclimating.”

“Regina,” Snow chided. She turned back to Hook. “You’re welcome to come with us, but we would understand if you wanted to stay here. You saw what it’s like over there. It’s a lot to get used to, and we would completely understand if you wouldn’t want to live there.”

“Once we close the wormhole, there may be no coming back here anymore,” Regina pointed out. “This could be your last chance.”

Hook chuckled, glancing down at his shoes before looking up and meeting Emma’s eyes again. “I promised you I’d bring you and your kin home. I’m not walking away from that just because it’s convenient or it _could be_ bad for me. I’m a man of my word.”

Regina snorted. “You’re a pirate.”

“ _I’m a man with a code_. _I’ll_ be sailing _my_ ship into Storybrooke harbor, ladies and gents.” He turned back to look at Emma, whose corners of her lips were turned up slightly, a light in her eyes that Hook wanted to see more often.

And once again, he neither cared nor acknowledged the presence of her parents, her son, her ex-lover, and whomever else may see. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his thumb stroking her cheek. His smile widened when she leaned into his touch slightly.

“I will bring you back home, love.”


	7. no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know whether to blame my illness or just writer’s block for this clusterfuck of a shitstorm of a chapter ‘cause it’s taken me damn-near forever to write this. I don’t even know.  
> There’s also the slight issue that I’m studying abroad in Greece, so my real life is infinitely more interesting than anything fictional I can currently come up with.  
> Sorry, guys.

**vii. no**

* * *

 

“So.”

Hook’s meandering thoughts of a feather bed were interrupted as he slowly turned to look at Snow, who’d slowed to match his stride and was currently giving him a painfully bright smile. He glanced back up at the trail at the rest of the group that’d set off from Aurora’s castle to the _Jolly Roger._

“Yes?” he urged, cocking an eyebrow.

She cleared her throat. “How, uh, are you feeling?”

He cringed at how awkward this conversation was even after two words. He wanted Emma’s parents to warm up to him, but if this was the price he had to pay, he was going to need more rum. “You and your husband seem to have found an inexplicable fascination with my well-being.”

Snow sighed, and her smile dimmed to something a little more believable. “It’s called _worry_ , Killian. You’re gonna have to get used to it.”

If he had to continue such constant interaction with Snow White and Prince Charming, he was _certainly_ going to have to get used to a lot of things.

“Oh, I’m rather accustomed to it,” Hook said, nodding. “Usually, it’s worry _about_ me rather than worry _for_ me.”

“I guess it’s time for a change then, huh?” The bright smile returned, but he supposed this was significantly more genuine than the first. He wasn’t entirely sure which one was better. “So _are_ you okay?”

He licked his lips and scratched the back of his ear. “I’m well, thank you.”

Snow hummed, nodding contemplatively. Her knowing attitude was another thing he wasn’t sure he liked or disliked. “Really? No anxiety or stress?”

“Well, of course there’re anxiety and stress,” he answered, moving on to scratch his eyebrow. “However, it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I’d say being suddenly and violently reunited with your shadow would warrant more anxiety and stress than normal,” she pointed out.

“I’ve been separated with other important appendages, princess,” Hook said, brandishing his hook with a small smile. “I’m quite well.”

Snow cleared her throat, smirking. All right, _that_ was something Hook disliked. “Emma might have the uncanny ability to tell when people are lying, but I’m not so bad at it myself, you know?”

Hook, to his credit, managed to maintain his expression and continue walking. He’d heard of the method of boiling frogs—put one in a pot with cool water and then slowly increase the fire instead of punting it straight into a roiling boil. He felt that metaphor should be accurate, but he still felt _seared_. There is no amount of time spent with the Charmings that would easily accustom people to them. Either one must force himself to acclimate or be steamrolled.

“Well, I suppose you need to brush up on your skills, princess, because I am not lying. I am _all right_ ,” Hook said.

“You are _not_ all right,” Snow said flatly, setting her hand on his shoulder and forcing him to a stop. “‘All right’ may be a Storybrooke colloquialism, but it’s pretty straightforward, Killian. All is _not_ right with you.”

“I’ve got my shadow back, don’t I?” He shrugged out of her grip as respectfully as he could. “All is right and _as it was_ , princess. _Thank you_.”

He nodded at her and continued trekking after the others even as Snow continued to stand where they’d stopped. He heard her sigh and he could even almost hear her shaking her head. And then she chuckled, and Hook’s lips thinned into a straight lined-grimace as he paused again.

“You’re damn-good at that,” she said, loud enough for him to hear, but still out of earshot of the others, who were significantly further away now.

“At _what_?”

“At not telling the truth without ever having to lie,” she said, casually walking up to him. “You say all is _right_ —as in the norm has been re-established. I _know_. You say you’re _well_ —as in _well off_.”

“Please,” he deadpanned, “keep telling me what I mean.”

“You need to rest, Killian,” Snow said, tone saturated with motherly authority. “I know Charming already talked to you, and—”

“And so you and he must already know that I’m a grown man who’s lived a very long three hundred years, princess,” he interrupted her as gently as he could. The title of respect was as much a form of address as it was a reminder that he should hold his temper. “If you’re trying to dissuade me from our mission—”

“I’m _not_ ,” she said earnestly, reaching out to hold his arm. “I’m _really_ not.”

Hook eyed her serious expression and then the hand on his arm. Before he could say anything about it, she squeezed.

“I’m saying it because I’m worried about you,” she said. “Plain and simple. You look worn and tired, and everyone can see it. Emma’s constantly looking back here—not just because she’s attracted to you, you know.”

If he was any less of a pirate captain, he would have blushed. But because of the seriousness of Snow’s tone and expression and his own frustration with the circumstances, he suppressed the pleased smile and only glanced up at the trail.

“I’m saying it because I want you to realize how hard you seem to be pushing yourself or even how much of a toll it’s taking, having your shadow back,” Snow continued. “Hell, my best bet is that it’s a combination of a lot of things.”

He carefully pulled his arm out of her grip and continued walking.

“I’m sure having a part of yourself suddenly shoved back must be jarring.”

Hook snorted. “It’s more like having a part of yourself suddenly shoved back into a _space_ that’s been somewhat filled by a patchwork job for such a long time that you’d almost forgotten what you’d been missing.”

Snow took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I guess I understand how you feel—somewhat.”

Hook cocked an eyebrow. “Had you lost your shadow as well?”

Snow winced. “I lost my baby, forgot I had one, and then found my grown daughter.”

And then the world shook, the air rippling around them with an energy that made their skin crawl, and their conversation was postponed. He grabbed Snow and lodged his hook into a tree to keep them from toppling over, but just as soon as it started, the quake ceased.

“What the hell was that?!” they heard Emma bark.

“What is _that_?!” Aurora shrieked.

Hook and Snow picked their way through the underbrush, wary of aftershocks.

“What happened?” Snow asked, immediately checking Emma over for any injuries.

“ _That_ is what happened,” Regina said darkly, pointing down at the ground a few meters away.

It was a cube-like metal contraption with two slots at the top and a lever on the side. Hook distinctly remembered Snow telling him what it was when she caught him frowning at it back in Storybrooke, but he could no longer remember the name.

“A _toaster_?” Snow muttered under her breath as she bent down and picked it up.

“Slipping through the cracks indeed,” Regina said, seeing Aurora, leaning against a tree and pointing at something a ways off the trail. Hook followed the line of her arm, his eyebrow rose.

Bright, shiny, and apple-green, an automobile sat on the forest floor, a tree seemingly growing out from its middle.

“What is that?” Aurora asked, eyes wide.

Hook cleared his throat. “Well, I can tell you with a great amount of certainty that it’s not a flower vase.”

Emma shot him a look, but he didn’t miss the twitch at the corner of her lips.

“We are running out of time,” Regina said, not even a smidge amused. “Next thing you know, we’re gonna turn to the left and see half of Storybrooke wedged into the forest.”

“What _would_ happen if the two worlds combined?” Aurora asked, brows furrowed as she pulled her cloak closer around herself.

Regina rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Are you still half-asleep or something? Imagine trying to squish two people—two _bodies—_ into one entity. What do you think is gonna happen?”

“We need to hurry,” Emma said, hoping to stop whatever tirade Regina had building up. “Gold said it wouldn’t take long to get to his castle, so they must already be there by now. We need to be ready to go by the time they meet us so we can haul ass out of there and close that wormhole.”

“How sure are you your plan’s gonna work, pirate?” Regina asked, eyes narrowed and lip curled into the beginnings of a sneer.

“As sure as your future placement in hell, love.”

Snow smacked the back of his head.

* * *

 

Henry slowly twirled the magical artifact between his hands, the shaft smooth and cold. The pearly green sheen glimmered in the sunlight but also with the effervescent magic that made the mermaid’s trident hum. He frowned down at it and then blinked up at the Dark One. Hook stifled a chuckle and glanced at Emma, whose arms were folded across her chest, watching and waiting where they all stood at the railing of the _Jolly Roger_. Henry and the Dark One sat in the dinghy they’d lowered in order to do their business with the trident.

“So I just… _stir the water_?” Henry asked, his tone a cautious mix of incredulity and hope.

“Indeed,” Rumplestiltskin said, his pleasant demeanor unsettling Hook.

Then again, _everything_ about the Dark One unsettled Hook. Even if the man saved the entire buggering universe and humbly declined the role of its Supreme Emperor, Hook would forever look at Rumplestiltskin out of the suspicious corner of his eye.

Neal squeezed the railing, twisting his hands along the wood. “Remind me again why _he’s_ gotta be the one to risk his neck with portals again,” he asked through his teeth. The poor soul never had a good experience with a portal.

“Be nice to her,” Hook chided, motioning at Neal’s hand before stroking the railing.

“Because Henry’s the one with the strongest faith than anyone else on this boat,” Charming said.

Hook winced. _“Ship.”_

Snow laughed, and Hook’s eyebrow rose. They really _were_ warming up to him.

“You,” Regina snapped, pointing at Neal. “Shut up. And _you_.” Her index finger swiveled onto Hook. “It’s _railing.”_ And then she promptly turned back to fidgeting with her coat as she stared down at Henry, as if she could keep her son in a shield as long as she had her eyes fixed on him.

“Like stew, Master Mills,” Hook said.

Still looking as skeptical as ever, Henry carefully shifted closer to the side of the dinghy. The boy dipped the trident, with its broken middle prong, into the gently swaying ocean and tentatively stirred. The water swirled and sparkled, but it wasn’t the glorious reaction they were all expecting.

“With some _feeling_ , mate!” Hook called down from where the rest of them stood at the railing, peering down at the boy and his grandfather. “You’ve got to _believe_ in the trident!”

Henry glanced up at him, teeth worrying his lower lip, and Hook nodded encouragingly.

“Think of Storybrooke,” Hook said. “Think of your strongest, most vivid memories of the town so it’ll anchor the magic.”

“Think of your bedroom, your dining room, your school,” the Dark One said. “Close your eyes and try to imagine everything right in front of you—so real you can almost reach out and touch it.”

Henry took a deep breath, nodded, and turned back to the trident, still dipped in the water. And then he began to stir wider, deeper circles, and the magic swirled and rippled, resonating through the water in rhythmic pulses—the heartbeats of the ocean.

“It’s working!” Regina cried.

“Raise them up!” Emma barked.

Hook and Neal hauled up the dinghy, and Henry and the Dark One jumped back onto the ship just as the portal began to form, a whirlpool of magical water.

They all scrambled to their posts, securing ropes and hanging onto the railing as Hook steered them into the portal.

“Henry!” he called over the rush of wind and water.

The boy loped over to the wheel, and Hook motioned for him to take his place. “Hold it tight and strong,” Hook ordered, planting a steady hand on Henry’s shoulder as the ship began its spiraling descent, “and think of Storybrooke. Vivid memories.” He raised his voice and called out to the rest of their makeshift crew. “All of you! Thoughts of Storybrooke only! I don’t care if you all start bloody crying! You put me in charge of transportation, and this is what is required of you to do! Focus as much of your existences on Storybrooke! If we don’t emerge in familiar harbors, ladies and gents, we may as well drop anchor and hunker down for the deterioration of our home worlds.”

“A rousing speech, Captain,” Neal said blandly.

“Vivid memories, Baelfire!” Hook nearly shrieked.

And so the _Jolly Roger_ descended into the portal, clinging for dear life and thinking the strongest thoughts of Storybrooke as they could all possibly muster.


	8. no way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit a hardcore dry spell with this story, homies. Thank God this is the penultimate chapter. I was gonna do an epilogue, but let’s be real, that’s not necessary. I don’t need to prolong my own anguish.

**viii. no way**

* * *

Hook wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting when he and his motley crew of disturbingly-related fairytale characters blinked back into Storybrooke Harbor. He certainly had been hoping  _not_ to see ravaged battlegrounds—half the town smoking and the other half still on fire. At the very least, however, he was expecting  _something_ to be smoking.

Instead, all he’d taken in was the calm morning, lined with mist and the first warm rays of sunlight peering over the horizon. It was quite anticlimactic, really…until they’d docked and Belle leapt over the gangplank to reach Rumplestiltskin—a feat that impressed everyone, especially considering the five-inch heels on her shoes.

Honestly, it’d been quite disturbing. As good for him as she might be, Hook would probably always shake his head and mutter, _Bloody cradle-robbing bastard_. Not that he had much room to talk himself—being the three-hundred-something-year-old halfway in love with the twenty-nine year old Savior. If he hadn’t retained his good looks, he’d be thoroughly disgusted with himself.

Though the way Ruby and Grandmother Wolf eyed him warily had him reckoning they had the disgust covered. Even after Snow and Emma had explained how Hook had aided their quest in rescuing Henry, the two women’s visible disgust only seemed to abate marginally.

However, it was redirected at Regina when she asked Neal, “Don’t you have any sort of problem that your potential stepmother is younger than you?”

Neal winced, but didn’t seem overly affected. “A May-December romance between my father and a neighboring princess pretty much pales in comparison to the rest of this family.”

“Is that your seal of approval?” Henry asked, still somewhat smothered in Grandmother Wolf’s embrace.

Neal winced again, but Hook saved him from directly responding. “I’d call it more of a ‘positive acceptance’ than outright approval, Master Mills.”

Neal shrugged, though he still looked amusingly uncomfortable. “If they’re happy, I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Is everyone in town all right?” Emma asked, trying to redirect the conversation away from her convoluted family.

“Apart from Sleepy having some palpitations that an entire tree suddenly appeared between his legs in the middle of a nap, they’re all mostly fine,” said Grandmother Wolf.

Hook and Neal immediately stifled snorts of laughter into their fists, and even Charming’s lips disappeared into a straight line.

“What do you mean?” Snow gritted out, shooting the men a glare that did nothing to stop Hook and Neal’s chortles. “I _mean_ , what is _happening_ to the _town_?!”

“It’s like a forest is taking over the town,” said Ruby, hiding her smirk from her grandmother. “Trees have been popping up left and right. Boulders, bushes, vines like _cockroaches_ appearing in every nook and cranny.”

“How about any wormholes?” Emma asked bitterly, rubbing her forehead. “Any of those pop up?”

Ruby and Belle gaped. “What?”

“Not _yet_ , I’m guessing,” Grandmother Wolf said, glaring at Rumplestiltskin. “But you all better explain what’s going on before they _do_.”

“Oh, you know, typical Storybrooke woes. My curse and Gold’s protection spell combined to make a wormhole that threatens the annihilation of both the land without magic and the Enchanted Forest,” Regina said, shooing her way through the small crowd on the dock. “Let’s move the rabble along. We’ve got a bomb to brew.”

Only able to shake off Ruby, Grandmother Wolf, and Henry, Regina and Rumplestiltskin reluctantly shepherded the group to the backroom of the pawn shop, where the Dark One had set up his workroom. He and Regina promptly began rifling through the drawers, cupboards, and cabinets for various potion ingredients like diligent little sorcerers.

Hook found a vacant stool and immediately planted his arse to watch the inevitable storm brewing in the tension between the group. Emma, he was pleased to note, stood fairly close by, arms crossed over her chest, while Neal stood a few feet away. Whatever conversation the two of them had in the Enchanted Forest did not have a positive effect on their relationship. Prince Charming and Snow White hovered by the large pewter cauldron the Dark One had thumped onto the worktable upon their entrance.

“So,” Emma said casually, rubbing her temple wearily as they all watched Regina and Rumplestiltskin flit around the room, retrieving various ingredients and setting them on the table. “A bomb, huh?”

Regina held up a small vial of glowing blue liquid, wordlessly asking for the Dark One’s approval. “If you wanna get technical, it’s more of a potion than anything else.”

“And what are we gonna do with this potion?” Neal asked. “Pour it down another well?”

The Dark One blinked. “How much has Henry already told you?”

“I’m pretty much up to speed at this point,” Neal answered, eyeing his father pointedly.

Rumplestiltskin cringed.

“So what are we supposed to do with the potion?” Neal asked again, a bit less bitter than before.

“We’re gonna make it into a bomb,” Regina answered, “toss it into another portal, and hope to God it works.”

When he saw the alarm on Snow’s face, the Dark One jumped in to do a bit of damage control before the princess went ballistic. “That’s putting it bluntly and coarsely, dearie. Don’t worry; this potion is foolproof.”

Regina scoffed and rolled her eyes. Hook reckoned she was thinking of all the _fools_ surrounding her and how _very_ badly things could go wrong. How in the world a woman of her disposition and a woman of Snow’s managed to coexist within the same hundred-mile radius for so long without causing a cataclysm baffled him. Though this current catastrophe might count.

“I agree with that sentiment,” Emma said, shocking her parents and causing one of Hook’s eyebrows to rise. “What? You know our track record. Things don’t tend to go as planned.”

“Yes, but out of everything else that can go wrong, you can rely on this potion to do its job,” the Dark One said. “If you’re going to worry about something, worry about this portal.”

“What?” Snow asked. “Why?”

“The bomb needs to go off so the explosion hits both sides of the portal.” Rumplestiltskin deposited another armful of ingredients onto the worktable and set a fire to the bottom of the cauldron. “The timing needs to be perfect.”

“That’s another reason why we couldn’t do this in the Enchanted Forest,” Regina pointed out, popping corks off vials for the Dark One to deposit into the cauldron. “If we did this there, we would be _trapped_ there.”

“That’s why you asked if I wanted to stay,” Hook said, eyes narrowed. “Because that was my last chance to back out.”

Emma turned to him, eyeing him cautiously. If he didn’t know better, he would think her expression held something akin to reluctant hope. “Regrets?”

Hook scoffed and let his expression slide into a small smile. “Why regret a decision happily made?”

Emma turned back to the cauldron, biting her bottom lip. Even though their circumstances were actually quite dire, he couldn’t help but be extremely cheerful.

“You two sicken me,” Regina stated blandly, pausing in her work long enough to throw Hook and Emma a sneer.

Charming cleared his throat, frowning at Hook, Emma, and Regina. “So what? We just open up a portal in the middle of the town square and throw the cauldron in?”

“You really want to open up an unstable wormhole in the middle of the town square?” Regina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Fine_ ,” Charming gritted out between his teeth. “The middle of the _harbor_ then? Stick it on a boat and send it on its way?”

“There may be a problem with that,” Belle interrupted.

“There _may_ be _a problem_ with that,” Charming bitterly muttered in a sigh. “Really? There _may_ be just _one_?”

“Your sarcasm is a bit overdone, mate,” Hook chortled.

Everyone ignored them both.

“No modern technology is working,” Belle replied. “No cellphones, no cars, no motors. If we’re going to be sending any boats into portals, it’s going to have to be by hand—the old-fashioned way.”

“O- _kay_ ,” huffed Neal. “So we’re gonna have to grab a sailboat and drift into another portal.”

“Good thing that’s how some of us have been living all this time,” Hook said cheerfully. See, contrary to Regina’s insinuations, he _wasn’t_ a total waste.

“Not quite,” Rumplestiltskin said.

Emma groaned. “What now?”

“We can’t just…use any old ship,” he explained slowly. The Crocodile held up the small satchel of remaining stardust, looking straight at Hook. “This isn’t enough. We’re going to need the magic that’s already infused in your ship to supplement the magic of the potion. For all intents and purposes, your ship will become the bomb. So we’ll need to sail it into the portal.”

Hook’s smile fell. “Pardon?”

Neal scrubbed his hands on his face. “Oh, shit.”

Hook swallowed and took a deep, steadying breath. “You want to…blow up…my _ship_?”

Snow’s worried and sympathetic expression actually made him feel a little worse. “Killian—”

“No, no, Princess Mother,” Hook said, pasting a smile on his face. He cleared his throat. “It’s all right. I’ll do it.”

Emma spun around to stare at him in shock. Even Neal looked flabbergasted. Hook only smiled at her slightly, though with significantly more pain than before.

_His ship._

“Need I remind you my promise once again, Swan?” He combed his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “Besides, I always knew my girl would go down in a fight.”

“This is less of a fight and more of a kamika—”

“Regina!” Snow barked.

Hook ignored them both. “So what’s going to happen?” he asked. “We load the potion onto the _Jolly Roger_ and sail it through?”

“I thought you said this thing was a bomb,” Snow said.

Regina cocked an eyebrow, stirring the potion with a glass rod. “It is.”

Snow stared at the other woman incredulously. “So there will be no _we_ sailing this ship anywhere!”

“Well, considering we don’t have a motorboat or any way to remotely steer a ship and detonate a bomb, there’s gonna have to be a ‘we’ or an ‘I’ somewhere on that ship,” Regina said.

Hook chuckled darkly. “I don’t think any of you are harboring any delusions of sailing _my_ ship, so this falls on my shoulders once more.”

“What?! No!” Snow cried. “There’s got to be another way—w-we’re not putting you on a ship with a _bomb_ , for God’s sake!”

“Don’t worry, it might not blow him up—”

_“Might?!”_ Charming snapped, glowering at both Regina and the Dark One, thought the latter was busy dumping ingredients into the smoking cauldron.

If Hook wasn’t so depressed and angry at the same time, he would’ve felt a bit nice that the prince and princess were coming to his defense. Futile as it may be.

“—and rather blast him back here into Storybrooke,” said Regina coolly. “Or into the Enchanted Forest. Or another world entirely.”

“Regina, shut the hell up,” Snow commanded tiredly, raising a hand to the Queen Mayor’s face. She turned to Hook. “Killian, you don’t have to do this.”

“No, Princess White, it’s all right.”

“No, it’s _not_ ,” Emma said firmly, pinning him to his stool with her stare.

“I will be sailing my ship, darling, there is no doubt about that,” Hook stated. “However, I _am_ going to be a bit smarter about this whole plan than willy-nilly throwing myself into portals with incendiary devices.”

“What?” Neal asked, brows furrowed.

“Well, I’m going to bloody jump off my poor ship at the last minute before I go careening into the portal,” Hook said, the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll disable the rudder chain so she’ll sail straight, then I’ll detonate the bomb and jump off.”

“That leaves you with too small a margin,” Emma said, shaking her head. “What if you get caught in the explosion? I doubt this is a bomb with a fuse.”

“Trigger ingredient,” said the Dark One, holding up the vial with the glowing blue liquid Regina had brought him. “Pour this into the potion, and it’ll start to take effect.”

“How much time would Hook have?” Neal asked.

“Less than ten seconds.”

Regina took a deep breath and let it out loudly. “So you’ve got ten seconds to take a flying leap off your ship and swim the required distance from it so you don’t get caught in the whirlpool of the portal.”

Hook shrugged. “I’ve been through worse, frankly.”

“No,” Snow said firmly. “This is not happening. We have to think of a different way.”

Hook sighed. “Prin—”

“ _No_ ,” Charming interjected, ever the stern father with his authoritative tone and stony expression. “You are not going on this suicide mission. Ten seconds is not enough for you to get clear. You may as well save yourself the effort and not jump out.”

“Wait, wait, wait, w-what if— _what if_ you or Regina go on board with him, and when the time comes, you teleport yourselves outta there?” Neal asked Rumplestiltskin, eyebrows raised.

Honestly, Hook was quite surprised everyone was so eager to keep him from dying.

The idea seemed to placate Snow and Emma, but Charming still looked skeptical—until Regina held up a hand and Rumplestiltskin waggled his fingers.

“With _what magic_?” they chorused.

“We’re out of commission again,” Regina said, scowling.

“Whatever is disrupting the flow of technology in this world is also disrupting our powers as well,” the Dark One explained.

“So how’re you able to make that potion if there’s no magic in the world?” Neal asked, gesturing to the softly-bubbling cauldron in the middle of the room.

“It’ll only work once we’ve thrown it into the portal,” Rumplestiltskin said. Bastard had an answer for everything, didn’t he? “As of right now, this is just a boiling pot of random ingredients.”

Neal turned away, raking his hands through his hair in frustration, muttering something under his breath that sounded much like, _I hate magic._ Snow and Charming seemed on the same page with the way they kept crossing and uncrossing their arms or twiddling fingers and rings or generally glaring at the two impotent sorcerers. Belle was leaning against the bookcase, staring down at her shoes like they would give her the answers to their predicament as well as every question in the universe. Then again, she’d been like that for the last ten minutes. She could very well be asleep on her feet.

Emma stepped forward again, hands aloft as if to try and calm the room down. “Okay, so let’s just...take a step back. You two don't have powers, we can’t send an unmanned ship into the portal, and there’s not enough time to detonate the bomb without getting clear. What other option have we got?”

“The way I see it,” Hook sighed, scuffing the heel of his boot on the wood floor, “I’m just going to have to—what was the phrase again?—take one for the team.”

Emma didn’t even look at him. “Shut up.”

“Look, no one’s come up with any new ideas,” Hook persisted. “The best we’ve got is…me swimming as fast as I bloody can.”

Emma held a finger up to him, grimacing. “Not trying to insult you or anything, but in this instance, I’m not gonna put much stock in your capabilities—I don’t care if you’ve spent three _millennia_ at sea—ten seconds is not enough.”

“Well, for your sake, I hope to all the gods under the sky that it will be,” Neal said, looking out the window where a black storm cloud roiled above, crackling with lightning, while vines had begun to snake across the window, nearly obscuring it completely. “It doesn’t look like we’ve got much choice outside of taking that leap of faith.”

* * *

 

For all the animosity between the maternal and paternal sides of Henry Mills’s family, when Rumplestiltskin and Snow White exchanged glances, they seemed to carry on a nonverbal conversation very well. Snow had marshaled Charming, Neal, Belle, Regina, Emma, and Hook out of the pawn shop for sustenance at Granny’s. The Dark One elected to stay behind and monitor the brewing process while Hook took his time pretending to leave along with them.

He’d nearly evaded the herd when Emma turned back at the door to the shop expectantly.

“I’ll be right with you, love,” he said, pleased that she waited for him. “Just have to clear some technical things with the Crocodile concerning that bloody potion and my ship.”

Emma nodded awkwardly before walking out the door, and Hook smirked. She had no idea how to act around him, and it warmed the cockles of his heart. His heart that would most certainly stop beating if he went along with this cockamamie plan.

He stomped back into the workroom, glaring at the Dark One, who replied with only a raised eyebrow and a patronizing smirk. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Hook answered with a  grow. “I’m going to rig my ship to sail straight into the portal.”

Rumplestiltskin blinked, and Hook shifted his weight onto one foot with a smug smile, thumb hooked on his belt.

“I wouldn’t have expected any of you to have thought of it. Like I said, I’d disable the rudder chain, but I’ll also hoist the sails, tie hell of a lot of knots, and set up a fuse so the knots will burn and set off a chain reaction so the ship continues to sail on track. I’ll set up another booby-trap-type contraption to tip that trigger ingredient into the potion, and _boom_. You’ve got a ship that’ll sail itself for just long enough to get the job done.”

The Dark One studied him for a several seconds, occasionally stirring the cauldron. “Why didn’t you offer this idea while the others were in the room?”

“Because while I don’t doubt my knot-tying and estimating abilities, I refuse to give the others false hope for my survival,” Hook said. “I’ve no delusions. Even rigging my ship thusly, I know my chances have only increased slightly. There are many things that could go wrong, but if I can reduce my risks, I’ll do it.”

Rumplestiltskin didn’t respond for quite some time. He merely sighed and continued to stir, mulling over Hook’s idea.

Hook, on the other hand, was about three seconds from simply walking out and preparing his ship. He’d just shifted his weight to walk away again when the Crocodile spoke.

“You may be the expert at ropes, but I’ve handled my fair share of string as well.”

Hook snorted. “Was that your offer of help?”

Going against Hook’s expectations of a sneer, Rumplestiltskin smiled. “In a ways, yes.” He set the rod down and motioned for Hook to follow. “This is also for my benefit, all things considered.”

“What is it? Some magical rope?” Hook asked, following the warlock warily.

“No,” the Dark One answered, pulling out a box from the back corner of a cupboard and thumping it onto a free space on a nearby table.

Well, it wasn’t rope, but it _damn-well_ would help. Especially if Hook had this all along. No matter his allegiances, Rumplestiltskin was very much a bloody arsehole.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know when I’m gonna be able to poop out the last chapter, y’all, so don’t put too much stock in it coming out before the end of the month. Fingers crossed, though.


	9. never

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, apparently I got it out faster than I ever thought. Thank God for this Write or Die program.

**ix. never**

* * *

 Emma had taken her time walking to the diner after leaving Jones in the pawn shop. She wasn’t an idiot; she knew he was plotting something with Gold. Any right-minded human being knew Jones would rather spend the least amount of time with Gold as possible. God knows he insinuated, implied, and said it enough times.

So when she got to Granny’s diner, sat down at the bar with Neal, Henry, Ruby, Belle, Regina, and her parents, and watched ten minutes tick by, Emma knew something was wrong. Or at least, something was going down at the pawn shop.

Considering Jones was pretty much their last hope—since none of them really knew how to sail a ship by themselves—she doubted Gold would kill him and try to stash the body. So what was taking him so long?

Not that she particularly wanted him to show—

Okay, fine. Enough was enough.

It was high time to be honest with herself because God knew she needed to re-evaluate her life. Neal was alive and well and happily hanging out with Henry (for as long as he possibly could considering he’d nearly died and now they were _all_ about to die considering their universe was going to implode) and he was firmly in her romantic past.

She liked Jones. She liked having him around. She enjoyed his inane commentary and how she felt surprisingly calm when he was nearby. She liked the fact that he seemed so eager to prove himself, but she also liked that he didn’t push her. She liked that he basically just sort of stood there, waiting for her to make the first move. Like he was going off of her actions rather than taking certain unwanted initiatives like most of the other guys she’d had histories with. All he did was wait for her…like someone who knew she’d turn to.

It was like he was home—as if he’d prepared a whole house for her benefit, but he didn’t nag her to hurry or even drag her back. He was just… _there…for her._

So where was he this time?

She wasn’t trying to sound like she expected him to always be there, it’s just that she’d gotten used to seeing him when she turned around.

And that’s when she slid off the barstool.

“Emma?” Snow called, swiveling her seat as Emma began to back away. “Where are you going?”

Emma blinked and shook her head, biting the inside of her lip. “I need to go check on something.”

“Why?” Ruby asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Emma answered. Unconvincing, she knew, but she wasn’t in the right mind to make more valid excuses. She needed to get to the docks. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just a hunch. Don’t worry.”

She jogged out of the diner, leaving a confused conversation in her wake. She passed the windows, making sure she was way out of sight of the diner before she broke into a full sprint.

She wasn’t an idiot. If he didn’t stay behind with Gold to have some sort of verbal or physical smackdown, there was no other reason for him to stay unless he was waiting for the potion-bomb. She wasn’t an idiot, and if he thought she was, he wasn’t as fond of her as they both thought. That dickhead.

By the time her pounding footsteps transitioned from cement to wood, she was thoroughly enraged and feeling like she was about to die. She really needed to do more cardio.

“Hook, you asshole!” she shrieked, spotting his head bobbing along his ship as he puttered around, prepping.

“That’s nice!” Jones barked right back, scowling. He craned his head to see her but then turned away to continue working again. “Call me obscene names as I’m trying to get ready to save the bloody world.”

“Lower the gangplank right now!” she commanded, still panting from her side-splitting spring.

“No, I don’t think so,” he called back nonchalantly. “I’m quite busy, Swan.”

“You lower that gangplank right now or so help me, I’ll jump!”

Jones leaned over again and eyed her pointedly. “Even if you made long leaps for a livelihood, darling, you couldn’t possibly make that. Even with a running start, you’d smack against the side of my ship and slide down into the water.”

“Then you’d _have_ to haul me up,” she argued.

“Or I’ll just sail off and let you haul yourself back out like I know you can.”

Seeing that he was undeterred by her threats, she turned down a different road. “Jones, what the _hell_ are you doing?”

“What does it _look_ like I’m doing, love?” he countered, shrugging. “I’m preparing my poor ship for her swan song.”

“Are you sure you’re only preparing? Because it looks to me like you’re about to set sail—especially considering the lack of gangplank.”

“You and that gangplank,” he chortled. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m not leaving quite yet.”

“So why won’t you let the gangplank down?!”

“I’m going to give that bloody thing to you for your birthday.”

“Jones!”

He finally stopped and came to the railing to look her straight in the eye. “Swan?”

She glared at him, hands on her hips, still trying to catch her breath. “I’m not an idiot.”

He smirked. “I wouldn’t be so fond of you if you were otherwise.”

“So don’t treat me like an idiot.”

His smirk faded, and he patted the railing with a sigh. “I’m not treating you like an idiot, Emma.”

“You’re leaving.”

“Only for a bit, love.”

“You’re going to leave without even telling us? Why—What could possibly have compelled you to do that? God forbid you let us help get the ship ready or—”

“I chose to leave—or at least attempt it—because I’d rather not have all of you wishing me luck and saying goodbye as if it’ll be the last time you’ll see me,” he said simply.

“What the fuck kind of rationale is that?!” Emma screeched.

Jones’s eyebrows shot up, and Emma took a deep breath to steady herself.

She was pissed. She _furious_ that he was gonna have to play hero. She was _furious_ that he was about to risk his godddamn life to blow up his ship and save the worlds from disintegrating. She was _furious_ that he didn’t even want to say goodbye. And that was saying a lot, considering she didn’t even like goodbyes, and yet him not saying goodbye was pissing her off.

She needed rum.

 _NO,_ that was not a euphemism, dammit.

When she opened her eyes again, he was peering down at her worriedly.

“All right there, love?”

She ignored his question. “So what? You’re just gonna…go and blow up your ship and try to swim away before the portal sucks you in with it?”

He blinked and nodded. “Aye.”

“Let me guess, you don’t want me to call the others and tell them you’re gone?”

“Aye.”

“Why?!” she snapped.

“Because I’ll be back before you know it, Emma,” he answered with a small smile.

“Don’t—don’t pull that kind of positive, confident attitude because—”

He grinned. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

“You have _ten seconds,_ Killian! You have ten seconds to get clear, and that’s not accounting for shit like the current o-o-or the whirlpool or _what-the-hell-ever_! You—”

“Oi!”

She blinked and glowered at him like she wanted to set his entire existence on fire.

He grinned again. “Darling, don’t worry. Remember what I told you?”

“Goddamnit, Killian,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

“I’m not leaving you, you crazy woman,” he said, ocean-blue eyes sparkling in the morning sun. Beautiful asshole. “How many times must I tell you?”

“Lower the gangplank.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not going to waste time. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll get back. Then you can hit me and berate me more for trying to leave without saying goodbye because I don’t think it necessary. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I’ve got a ship to sail, a magical bomb to detonate, a portal to evade, and an universe to save.” He disappeared from view again.

Slowly, the _Jolly Roger_ began to glide away from the docks.

Balling her hands into fists and taking another calming breath that did nothing to stop the unnamable emotions that made her entire form tremble. “Killian!”

His head poked over the railing again. “Yes?”

She wanted to strangle him. “Please be careful.”

He winked. “Am I ever anything but?”

* * *

“Emma!”

She didn’t even turn around. She just heard the stampede of footsteps on the dock, running up to her. She couldn’t peel her eyes away from the ship sailing straight for the whirlpool in the middle of the harbor.

“He left!”

“He’s gonna do it!”

“Emma, did you know?!”

“Gold, I can’t believe you gave him the potion.”

“It’s a suicide mission.”

She didn’t really pay attention to them. They kept asking her questions that she ignored in favor of watching the damn ship. It’d stopped in the middle of the harbor, and she knew that he’d lowered the dinghy to stir open the portal with the mermaid’s trident again. He’d sailed away to give himself enough time and space to maneuver his ship properly, and now he was on his way.

The idiot was seconds from sailing into a portal with a magical bomb.

Disabled rudder chain or whatever he’d said he was going to do, the odds of him making it out of this was slim.

Even if she was ignoring her mother, she was fairly sure Snow was thinking the same thing.

She felt a hand slip into hers, and she knew it was Henry’s. When his arm wrapped around her waist and his face burrowed into her side, she pried her eyes away from the ship for the brief moments it took to wrap her arms around her son.

For all her earlier protestations, she finally admitted it to herself.

She really was an idiot.

Because in the time between him sailing off with a playful wink and salute and when the others thundered up to her to stand on the edge of the dock, she realized that she was a giant _fucking_ idiot.

He was the biggest _persona non grata_ in Neverland, the prize with the biggest bounty on his head. He was nearly _clawed apart_ by Polly Pocket monsters—he nearly _died_ in that forest—before her touch somehow healed him. And yet he never betrayed her. He sent the pixies on a wild goose chase and nearly got his ship set on fire, and yet he never turned his back on her. Even if Pan and the pixies had promised to turn him loose with nary a scratch, he didn’t walk away from her.

He didn’t belong in Storybrooke. He didn’t belong in the world without magic. He belonged in the Enchanted Forest, with his ship and his crew, sailing the high seas and fulfilling his legendary role as pirate captain. He had nothing in Storybrooke. He’d have to deal with finding a job, finding a home, getting an entirely new wardrobe, getting acclimated to an entirely different culture, and he wouldn’t even be able to do a thing with his ship except occasionally sailing it or selling it to a museum. He had every reason to stay in the Enchanted Forest when they’d asked him if he wanted to. There was nothing for him here, and yet he still came with her. He didn’t walk away from her.

Now he was sailing off, probably to his death, because he wanted to save them all. He wanted to bring her and her family back home. He wanted to protect her. He wanted…to give them all their best chance.

She wanted to bang her head against a wall. Or punch herself.

Because August had walked away. Even if he was three or four or six or whatever age it was that a kid thought it was okay to abandon a baby at an orphanage, he’d walked away from her because it was his best bet. He was a child who’d have to fight against the foster care system in order to protect a baby. It wasn’t his responsibility, it wasn’t his fight, it wasn’t his world. He had ever right and reason to walk away—even if it was a fairly shitty thing to do regardless.

She wanted to hit something. Anything.

Because Neal had walked away. He left her because August—because _Pinocchio_ —told him that she was the long-awaited savior, and Neal didn’t want anything to do with a past he’d left behind. He didn’t want to be near anything that was even remotely associated with the world he’d been forcibly sucked out of, from a father he absolutely hated. He said he loved her, and yet he betrayed her. He called the cops on her so she would be sent to jail, and he’d be free to fucking go off and do whatever it was that asshats like him did. He said he loved her, and yet he turned his back on her.

Emma wanted to cry. She wanted to cry and scream and punch something and throw shit and break shit and everything because this _asshole_ —this pirate captain who’d swaggered straight out of a fairytale and wound up being more of a prince charming than anyone else she’d ever met (apart form the real Prince Charming, who happened to be her father)—was going to leave her, not because he wanted to, but because he was trying to save her.

It sucked.

It sucked giant, hairy troll balls because she knew he’d succeed. She had no doubt that he’d manage to send the _Jolly Roger_ through, detonate the bomb, and keep the worlds from smashing into each other. The only thing she doubted, the only thing she was worried about, was if he’d be able to walk out of this mess.

He was going to leave her, and while it seemed like he had the choice, he really didn’t.

And it _hurt so much._

“He’ll be all right,” she heard Henry mutter beside her. “He’s gonna be fine. He’s gonna be all right. We should send a boat out to make sure he doesn’t have to swim all the way back. He’s gonna be fine. He’s gonna be all right. _He’s gotta be all right._ ”

The ship swirled into the portal. When all they could see was the tip of the crow’s nest, it exploded. A burst of stars and magnificent green and purple light beamed out of the portal, nearly blinding them, before it slammed shut. The water stopped churning and settled.

No one bobbed to the surface, no one cut through the surface to swim toward shore. No one was there.

Emma sank down to the dock. Henry didn’t go down with her, but he held her hand. That was all she focused on. His hand. Because she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t _breathe._

She’d just reconciled herself with the thought of him in her life and now he wasn’t gonna be there anymore, and it took her breath away. Like an ice pick lodged against the side of her throat, cutting through her collarbone. Like a shard of glass sitting in between her lungs, just waiting for her to inhale. _She couldn’t breathe._

“Where… Where is he?” Belle whispered over the wind.

It swirled around them, blowing hair and coats about, and blasting away the black storm clouds, bringing back the beautiful day.

“He did it,” Snow said thickly. “He saved us.”

“Where is he?” Henry muttered so softly only Emma could hear. “He’s gonna come back— _where is he?_ ”

Neal bent down next to his son, his hand on his shoulder. “Henry—”

“No, _no_ ,” Henry said. “You’re not a sailor for three hundred years without being able to outswim a tiny whirlpool, right? He’s still out there.”

Even David had come closer, both to grab onto Emma’s shoulder as she struggled to even _inhale_. “Henry, he’s—”

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

* * *

 The rhythmic, uneven thumping sounded along the dock as Rumplestiltskin hobbled along. He’d made his way to the diner once Hook had taken the potion back to the _Jolly Roger_. When Rumple had stepped through the door, the others had immediately realized what happened and rushed off, but the Dark One took his time. He finished off the coffee he’d seen sitting in front of Belle and began to make his way toward the docks.

He could see their little group, standing at the furthest edge, staring off into the harbor, where he reckoned the portal had closed. Belle, the Charming wife and husband, the Wolf family, Baelfire, Henry, and the Swan girl, who was sat upon the dock, clutching her son’s hand like it was a lifeline.

He was still a ways off when he heard the telltale splash over the side of the dock. He limped toward the edge and bent down. He was about to prop his elbow on his knee when a hand shot up the side and clamped onto the edge of the wooden planks.

Rumplestiltskin reached down and took Hook’s other hand—his _left_ hand—and heaved up the pirate captain. He figured the moniker might not be applicable any longer. Dripping wet, he’d shed his black leather duster and boots, so he was left barefoot with only his shirt and trousers, and very much hook-less.

The faint cries of surprise they both heard signaled the others’ attention. Jones took a few moments to catch his breath, propped on all fours and shaking water off his face.

“Thanks for the hand, Crocodile,” the pirate said cheekily.

Rumplestiltskin just snorted and rolled his eyes.

With a groan, Killian Jones pushed himself up, wobbling on his feet, just in time to catch Henry, who’d dashed across the docks and hurled himself into Jones’s arms. He grasped the boy against his chest, little arms tight around his neck.

“Did you think I died, Master Mills?” he asked teasingly. “Have you all honestly no faith in my abilities as a sailor?”

“I told her you’d be okay,” Henry said, sniffling against Jones’s shoulder.

Jones looked up to where Charming was smiling at him, hand on his shoulder and on Henry’s back. “Where is she, by the way?”

Ruby and Regina moved aside so he could see Snow helping Emma up to her feet, hazel eyes staring straight at him. Jones set Henry back down on his feet, ruffling the boy’s hair. He vaguely heard everyone gasp at the lack of hook, but he didn’t pay much attention.

Because Emma was striding toward him, looking both furious and relieved, and he was just _happy_.

When she punched him in the chest (not hard, mind you), he only pretended to be winded, still grinning. When she called him a “Dick” under her breath, he pretended to understand what she meant. When she grabbed him by his shirtfront and yanked his lips down to hers, he took half a heartbeat to rally and kissed her right back.

Even though she took his breath away, it was like he could finally _breathe_ again. His lungs expanded and contracted to their fullest extent. The weight in his chest—from three hundred years’ experience and the force of his shadow’s return and the genuine worry that he was about to die—faded as he wrapped his arm around her waist and cradled the back of her head in his hand.

Three women over the course of three hundred years made his heart race, but only one quieted the storm. She was infuriating and inspiring, closed off but welcoming, broken and beautiful. And his entire existence was at peace.

He was never going to let this bloody woman go.

A throat clearing behind them caused them to break the kiss, but true to his previous thought, he didn’t release her from his embrace. Instead, he dropped gentle kisses on her cheek, by her eye, on her forehead, on her jaw.

“So you _did_ manage to get clear?” Prince Charming asked. He _might_ have been curious, but Jones figured it was mostly to make them stop kissing.

“In a ways, yes,” he answered, eyes still locked onto Emma’s face. “I rigged up a series of knots to burn and break at the right time to ‘automatically’ sail the _Jolly Roger_ through the portal and detonate the bomb. Once I turned the ship to sail straight for the portal, I jumped off—had more than enough time to get clear.”

“Which is why we couldn’t see you in the water,” Snow said, nodding. Her face-splitting grin beamed at him happily. “I’m _so_ glad you’re okay, Killian.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were gonna do that right from the start?” Regina asked.

“Didn’t want you all to get your hopes up in case something went wrong,” Jones replied. “I’ve booby-trapped things but never an entire ship to sail itself.”

“But everything went all right, I’m assuming?” Grandmother Wolf asked wryly. “Considering you had _two_ hands to do everything perfectly now?”

Jones grinned widely, finally turning away from Emma to see the rest of the group smirking or rolling their eyes at him. “Aye,” he answered simply.

Snow nodded and pulled on Ruby and Charming’s arms. “Well, I think we left the diner unattended for too long, hm?”

While the rest of them began walking away, Charming glared at her. “Snow—”

“I’m _hungry_ , David,” she said pointedly.

It was the wrong choice of words.

“Snow!” Charming hissed, eyes darting back and forth between his wife and his daughter and her pirate.

Snow’s gaze turned steely. _“Charming.”_

Charming’s shoulders sagged in defeat, and he let himself be led away by his wife, though he still shot daggers at the pirate.

Henry hugged Jones tight around the waist again. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“So am I, Master Mills,” Jones said, squeezing the boy back with one arm.

Henry scampered off, leaving Jones to devote both his arms and all of his attention to Emma, who continued to hold onto him as if she was memorizing the feel of him before he could leave again. He bent his head to continue kissing his way along her face.

“What did I tell you?” he whispered against her skin.

She chuckled thickly. “You wouldn’t leave me.”

He smiled, nuzzling the side of her nose with his. “And have I kept my word?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of,” he teased, though he was mostly serious. “Rumplestiltskin can attest to that, I’m sure.”

She chortled, but her smile faded and she looked up at him seriously. She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m a big proponent of not complicating my life. If there’s something I need to do, I’ll do it. Brash or not, I want to keep things simple. Do it or don’t.”

Jones nodded, brushing her hair back from her face with his fingers.

“So I’m gonna tell you…that I’m attracted to you. I want to be with you. I don’t want to just sleep with your o-or play games or some other dumb shit like that—I want to be with you.”

He didn’t bother stifling his giant grin.

“And I-I’ve been hurt before.” Her chin rose defiantly. “You know that. You know…how I feel. And I trust you—I do. With Henry’s life, my life, the lives of everyone in the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke. So I’m trusting you…to not hurt me. Please.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, cradling her face in his hands. “Emma, love, to hurt you is to hurt myself.”

“I think you’ve proved your self-preservation instincts are kind of shitty sometimes.”

He smirked. “That was back when I had nothing to lose.” He kissed her again, soft and lingering. “Besides. I think I’ve proved that I won’t leave you—not even if my life depended on it.”

“I’m stuck with you?”

“Aye.”

“Good.”

* * *

**The End**

 


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